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WAR  AND  PEACE 


A    HISTORICAL    NOVEL 

I  7  rK 

BY      « 

COUNT    LEON    TOLSTOI 

TKANSLA  ll-.D  IXTO  FRENCH 
BY  A  RUSSIAN    LADY 

AND 

FROM  THE  French  by  CLARA  BELL 


BEFOR  E    TILSIT 
1805  — 1807 

TWO    VOLUMES VOL.     L 


5 


REVISED   AND    CORRECTED    IN    THE    UNITED    STATES 

NEW  YORK 
WILLIAM  S.  GOTTSBERGER,   PUBLISHER 
I  I    MURRAY    STREET 
q  0  9    '."^*    1        1887 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1885 

BY  William  S.  Gottsberger 

in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Wasliington 


THIS    TRANSLATION    WAS    MADE    EXPRESSLY   FOR    THE    PUBLISHER 


^'  fc;  (^.^  i 


AVAR  AND  PEACE 


BEFORE    TILSIT. 

1805  — 1807. 


^  CHAPTER   I. 

"Well,  Prince,  what  did  I  tell  you?  Genoa  and 
Lucca  have  become  the  property  of  the  Bonapartes. 
Now,  T  give  you  fair  warning,  you  will  forfeit  your 
ivosition  as  my  friend  —  as  my  faithful  slave,  as  you 
choose  to  say  —  if  you  persist  in  disbelieving  in  war  and 
are  still  determined  to  defend  all  the  horrors  and  atrojD- 
ities  perpetrated  by  this  Antichrist  —  for  that  he  is 
Antichrist  I  am  convinced  !  —  Well,  well,  and  now  you 
are  my  dear  friend  ?  I  see  I  have  quite  frightened  you. 
Come,  sit  down  and  chat." 

Tiie  time  was  July  1805,  the  place  St.  Petersburg, 
and  the  speaker  Anna  Paulovna-Scherer,  maid  of  honor 
to  her  majesty  the  Empress-dowager  of  the  Russias, 
and  one  of  the  more  intimate  court  circle.  Her  words 
were  addressed  tQ  Prince  Basil,  a  perspnage  of  official 
gravity,  and  the  first  to  arrive  at  her  soiree.     Made- 

F^/.  /.  I 


2  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

moiselle  Scherer  had  been  coughing  for  some  few  days : 
it  was  the  influenza — a  grippe  she  called  it,  {grippe  being 
at  that  time  a  new  and  fashionable  word.) 

A  footman  in  red  livery  —  the  court  livery  —  had 
been  round  the  town  that  morning,  carrying  a  number 
of  notes  each  saying  in  the  same  terms,  and  in  French: 

"  If  you  have  nothing  better  to  do  this  evening  M. 
le  Comte,  or   M.   le   Prince,  and    are   not    too .  much 
alarmed  at  the  prospect  of  spending  it  with  a  hapless 
invalid,  I  shall  be  delighted  to  see  you  between  seven^ 
and  eight.  ^ 

"  Anna  Scherer." 

"  Mercy  on  us  what  a  terrible  attack !"  said  the 
.prince,  not  in  the  least  upset  by  this  reception.  He 
wore  a  court  uniform  embroidered  with  gold  and  spark- 
ling with  orders,  silk  stockings,  and  buckled  shoes;  his 
flat  face  wore  an  affable  smile;  he  spoke  French — th.'xt 
elaborate  French  which  to  the  Russians  of  a  generation 
or  two  back  was  the  language  even  of  their  thoughts — 
and  his  voice  had  the  deliberate  and  patronizing  tones 
of  a  man  influential  at  court  and  grown  old  in  its  a'c- 
mosphere. 

He  came  up  to  Anna  Paulovna,  and  kissed  her 
hand,  bending  his  bald  and  perfumed  head  over  it:  then 
he  seated  himself  comfortably  on  the  sofa. 

"  First  of  all  let  me  entreat  you  to  give  me  good 
news  of  your  health,"  he  said  in  a  gallant  tone  which 
nevertheless  betrayed  a  shade  of  irony,  not  to  say  of 
indifference,  under  the  formalities  of  politeness. 


WAR^ND    PEACE.  3 

"  How  can  I  be  well  when  my  spirits  are  so  ill  at 
ease?  Every  feeling  soul  must  suffer  in  these  days  — 
but  you  have  come  to  spend  the  evening  I  hope  ?" 

"No,  I  regret  to  say.  It  is  Wednesday;  the  En- 
glish ambassador  is  giving  a  great  ball  and  I  must  show 
myself  there.     My  daughter  is  coming  to  fetch  me." 

"  I  fancied  the  party  had  bee^i  put  off,  and  I  must 
confess  that  all  these  entertainments  and  fireworks  are 
beginning  to  bore  me  dreadfully." 

"  If  only  your  wish  had  been  known  the  reception 
would  of  course  have  been  put  off,"  replied  the  prince 
mechanically,  as  if  he  were  a  well-regulated  watch,  and 
without  the  smallest  expectation  of  being  supposed  to 
be  in  earnest. 

"  Come  now,  do  not  tease  me ;  and  tell  me,  for  you 
know  everything,  what  is  setded  about  the  despatch 
from  Novosiltzow  ?" 

"  What  can  I  tell  you  ?"  said  the  prince,  lookhig 
weary  and  bored.  "  You  insist  on  knowing  what  they 
have  concluded?  Well,  they  have  concluded  that 
Bonaparte  has  burnt  his^  ^hips,  and  we,  it  would  seem, 
are  about  to  do  the  same." 

Prince  Basil  always  talked  with  cool  indifference,  like 
an  actor  rehearsing  an  old  part.  Mademoiselle  Scherer, 
on  the  contrary,  affected  extreme  sprightliness  in  spite 
of  her  forty  years.  She  had  made  a  social  reputation 
for  enthusiasm  and  slie  sometimes  worked  herself  up 
without  any  sense  of  excitement,  simply  in  order  not  to 
disappoint  her  acquaintance.  The  half-suppressed 
smile  that  her  face  always  wore  was,  to  be  sure,  a  little 


4  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

out  of  keeping  with  her  worn  features,  but  it  expressed 
her  consciousness  of  an  amiable  weakness  which,  Uke  a 
spoiled  child,  she  could  not  or  would  not  correct.  The 
tone  of  this  political  dialogue  had  thoroughly  provoked 
Anna  Paulo vn a. 

"  Oh  !  do  not  talk  to  me  about  Austria.  Of  course 
I  may  know  nothing  about  it,  but  I  don't  believe  Aus- 
tria wants,  or  ever  has  wanted  war!  She  is  betraying 
us,  and  Russia  will  have  to  deliver  Europe  single-hand- 
ed !  Our  benefactor  fully  realizes  his  glorious  mission, 
and  he  will  prove  equal  to  it.  I  believe  it,  I  cling  to  it 
with  all  my  soul !  A  splendid  part  lies  before  our  good, 
kind,  generous  sovereign,  and  God  will  not  abandon 
him !  He  will  fulfil  his  mission  and  crush  the  Hydra 
of  revolution  which  is  more  hideous  than  ever,  if  pos- 
sible, under  the  mask  of  this  monster,  this  assassin  !  It 
will  be  our  fate  to  ransom  the  blood  of  the  righteous ! 
Whom  can  we  trust,  I  ask  you  ?  England  is  too  mer- 
cantile to  understand  the  magnanimous  soul  of  Alex- 
ander! She  has  refused  to  surrender  Malta.  Shp  is 
waiting  and  looking  for  some  selfish  motive  behind  our 
actions.  What  did  they  say  to  Novosiltzow  ?  Noth- 
ing.—  No,  no;  they  do  not  understand  the  devotion 
of  the  emperor,  who  wants  nothing  for  himself  and 
cares  only  for  the  public  good. —  What  have  they  prom- 
ised? Nothing  —  and  their  promises  are  worth  noth- 
ing. Has  not  Prussia  declared  that  Bonaparte  is 
invincible  and  that  Europe  is  helpless  to  fight  him  !     I 

^o  not  believe  in  Hardenberg  —  no,  nor  in  Haugwitz. 

i'our  famous  Prussian  neutrality  is  nothing  but  a  snare. 


M'AR    AND   PEACE.  5 

But  I  trust  in  God  and  in  the  high  standing  of  our 
beloved  emperor —  the  saviour  of  Europe!" 

She  suddenly  broke  off  smiling  blandly  at  her  own 
excitement. 

"  What  a  pity  that  you  are  not  in  Wintzingerode's 
place.  Your  eloquence  would  have  taken  the  king  of 
Prussia's  consent  by  storm;  but  —  will  you  give  me 
some  tea  ?"  ^ 

"  Directly.  —  By  the  way,"  she  added  more  calmly, 
*'  I  expect  two  very  interesting  men  this  evening :  the 
Vicomte  de  Mprtemart  who  is  connected  through  the 
Rohans  with  the  Montmorencys  —  one  of  the  best 
families  in  France;  he  is  one  of  the  best  of  the  emi- 
grants, and  genuine.  The  other  is  the  Abbe  Morio,  one 
of  the  deepest  thinkers.  —  The  emperor,  you  know, 
received  him.  ..." 

"I  shall  be  delighted!  —  But  tell  me,"  he  went  on 
with  greater  indifference  than  ever,  as  though  the  ques- 
tion on  his  lips  had  but  this  instant  occurred  to  him, 
while  it  was  in  fact  the  chief  object  of  his  visit.  "  Is  it 
true  that  her  majesty  the  Empress-dowager  has  asked  for 
the  appointment  of  Baron  Founcke  to  be  first  secretary 
at  Vienna.  The  baron  strikes  me  as  quite  second-rate !" 

Prince  Basil  coveted  the  appointment  for  his  son, 
and  efforts  were  being  made  to  obtain  it  for  Baron 
Founcke  through  the  influence  of  the  Empress  Maria 
F6odorovna.  Anna  Paulovna's  eyelids  drooped  till 
they  were  almost  closed,  to  convey  that  neither  she  nor 
anyone  else  could  know  what  would  or  would  no<- 
please  the  empress.  -. 


WAR   AND    PEACE. 

the  introduction,  and  then  withdrew  to  bring  up 
some  one  else.  Everyone  had  to  go  through  the  same 
ceremony  with  this  obscure  and  quite  useless  old  lady, 
for  whom  no  one  cared  a  straw,  while  Anna  Paulovna 
listened  approvingly  to  their  exchange  of  civilities  with 
a  half-solemn  half-melancholy  look.  The  aunt  always 
repeated  the  same  formula,  asking  after  her  visitor's 
health,  reporting  on  her  own  and  on  that  of  her  Ma- 
jesty the  Empress-dowager,  "  which  was  better  thank 
God."  The  victim  politely  tried  to  betray  no  undue 
haste  to  escape,  but  took  good  care  not  to  come  near 
the  old  lady  again  during  the  rest  of  the  evening. 

Princess  Bolkonsky  had  brought  some  needlework 
in  a  little  velvet  work-bag  embroidered  with  gold.  Her 
upper-lip  —  a  bewitching  little  lip,  shaded  with  the 
faintest  trace  of  down  —  could  never  be  persuaded  to 
close  on  her  lower  lip ;  but  this  little  defect,  which  was 
quite  original  and  peculiar,  this  half-open  mouth,  only 
made  her  more  charming  —  a  gift  which  is  the  exclusive 
privilege  of  a  perfectly  fascinating  woman.  Every  one 
admired  the  young  creature  so  full  of  life  and  health, 
and  so  graciously  happy.  All  men,  whether  young  and 
bored  or  old  and  morose,  after  a  few  words  of  conversa- 
tion with  her  felt  as  though  they  had  caught  some  of 
her  charm,  or  at  any  rate  had  made  themselves  parti- 
cularly agreeable,  so  infectious  was  the  bright  smile 
which  showed  her  pearly  teeth  as  she  spoke. 

The  little  princess  made  her  way  round  the  table 
with  short  tripping  steps;  then,  shaking  out  the  folds 
of  her  dress,  she  sank  into  the  sofa  close  to  the  samovar^ 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 

with  the  air  of  a  person  whose   only  aim  in  lix^-____^ 
please  herself  and  others. 

"  I  brought  my  work,"  she  said,  opening  her  bag 
and  addressing  the  circle  generally.  "  Annette,  I  hope 
you  are  not  going  to  play  me  false;  you  wrote  'to  meet 
a  few  friends,'  so  you  see  .  . .  "  and  she  held  up  her  arms 
to  display  an  elegant  grey  morning-dress  trimmed  with 
lace  and  fastened  round  the  waist  with  a  broad  belt. 

"  Do  not  let  that  trouble  you,  Lisa,  you  will  always 
be  the  prettiest  whatever  you  wear." 

''And  do  you  know,"  Lisa  went  on  in  just  the  same 
tone,  but  turning  to  a  general  officer,  "  that  my  husband 
is  going  to  desert  me  ?  He  is  going  to  get  himself 
killed  !  What  is  the  good  of  this  horrible  war  ?"  she 
added  to  Prince  Basil.  But  she  did  not  wait  for  an 
answer  and  went  on  talking  to  his  daughter  Helen. 

"  What  a  sweet  little  person  it  is !"  said  Prince  Basil 
in  a  low  voice  to  the  mistress  of  the  house. 

A  few  minutes  after  a  tall  and  burly  young  man 
with  a  closely-cropped  head  was  shown  in.  He  wore 
spectacles  and  was  dressed  in  light-colored  trousers  of 
fashionable  cut,  a  brown  coat  and  an  immense  shirt-frill. 
This  was  the  natural  son  of  Count  Besoukhow,  a  fine 
gentleman  of  some  notoriety  in  the  days  of  the  Em- 
press Catherine,  and  who,  at  this  time  was  ill  —  dying 
slowly  —  at  Moscow.  The  young  gentleman  had  as 
yet  taken  up  no  particular  career,  and  had  but  lately 
returned  from  abroad  where  he  had  been  educated; 
this  was  his  first  appearance  in  St.  Petersburg  society. 

Anna  Paulovna  received  him   with   the  degree  of 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 

civility  and  warmth  which  she  bestowed  on  her  least 
important  guests ;  nevertheless,  and  in  spite  of  this  very 
second-rate  greeting  —  as  she  looked  at  Pierre,  a  look 
of  anxiety  and  alarm  crossed  her  face :  an  expression  of 
the  feeUng  we  experience  in  seeing  some  colossal  object 
quite  out  of  place.  Pierre  was,  no  doubt,  much  taller 
than  any  other  man  in  the  room;  but  Anna  Paulovna's 
feeling  had  another  source ;  it  was  his  shy  but  candid 
glance,  at  once  keen  and  true,  that  startled  his  hostess, 
and  distinguished  him  from  the  rest  of  her  guests. 

"  It  is  more  than  kind  of  you.  Monsieur  Pierre,  to 
come  to  see  a  poor  invalid,"  she  said  glancing  uneasily 
at  her  aunt  as  she  introduced  him  to  the  old  lady. 

Pierre  muttered  some  incoherent  reply  while  his 
eyes  wandered  round  the  room.  Suddenly  a  bright 
smile  lighted  up  his  face,  he  nodded  to  the  little  prin- 
cess as  if  they  were  the  best  friends,  and  bowed 
abruptly  to  '  ma  tafite'  Indeed,  Anna  Paulovna  had 
cause  for  her  alarms,  for  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  left 
the  aunt  without  even  waiting  for  the  end  of  her  speech 
about  the  empress'  health. 

His  hostess  stopped  him. 

"  Do  you  know  the  Abbe  Morio  ?"  she  asked. 
^'  He  is  a  very  interesting  man." 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  of  his  schemes  for  a  perennial 
peace;  it  is  very  clever  —  but  hardly  practical." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?"  said  Anna  Paulovna  vaguely. 
And  Pierre  was  guilty  of  a  second  blunder:  he  had 
quitted  one  lady  before  she  could  finish  her  sentence, 
and  now  he  detained  another  who  was  wanting  to  be 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 

rid  of  him,  bending  over  her,  with  his  big  feet  appar- 
ently rooted  to  the  floor,  while  he  proceeded  to  explain 
why  the  Abbe  Morio's  dreams  were  Utopian. 

"  We  will  discuss  it  another  time,"  said  Mile, 
Sch  er  e  r,sm-iferg-.'"' 

Having  shaken  off  this  young  man  who  had  no 
manners,  she  resumed  her  duties  —  listening,  looking 
on,  ready  at  any  moment  to  strengthen  a  weak  point 
and  give  fresh  impetus  to  a  flagging  conversation.  She 
worked  like  the  overseer  of  a  spinning-mill,  who 
walks  up  and  down  among  the  machinery  noting 
every  spindle  that  has  stopped,  or  creaks,  or  rattles,  and 
hastening  to  ease  it  or  to  stop  it.  Anna  Scherer  moved 
about  her  drawing-room,  going  first  to  a  silent  circle, 
and  then  to  a  group  of  eager  gossips :  a  word,  or  a 
skilful  shifting  of  the  figures,  gave  a  fresh  start  to  the 
talking-machine  which  then  went  on  again  at  an  even 
and  easy  pace.  But  her  doubt  and  dread  of  Pierre 
were  perceptible  through  it  all ;  she  kept  her  eye  upon 
him  and  saw  him  first  go  to  listen  to  what  was  going 
on  round  Mortemart,  and  then  join  the  circle  of  which 
Morio  was  the  centre.  Pierre  himself,  a  total  stranger, 
was  going  through  his  first  experience  of  St.  Petersburg 
society ;  he  knew  that  all  the  intellect  of  the  capital 
was  assembled  here  and  he  wandered  wide-eyed  from 
one  group  to  another,  like  a  child  in  a  toy-shop,  so  fear- 
ful was  he  lest  he  should  miss  something  in  the  conver- 
sation that  bore  the  hall-mark  of  talent.  As  he  looked 
at  all  these  faces,  stamped  with  distinction  and  self-con- 
fidence, he   expected   every  word    to    be  profound   or 


14  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

witty.  The  abbe's  conversation  finally  attracted  him 
and  he  paused,  awaiting  an  opportunity  for  giving  his 
opinion.     It  is  the  weakness  of  all  young  people. 

Anna  Paulovna's  soiree  was  fairly  started  —  all 
the  spindles  were  twirling.  Excepting  "  7na  tante^'  who 
was  sitting  apart  with  another  old  lady  with  a  tear- 
w^orn  face  that  looked  rather  out  of  place  in  this  gay 
circle,  the  company  had  fallen  into  three  groups.  The 
abbe  was  the  centre  of  one,  composed  chiefly  of  men ; 
the  second,  young  men  for  tlie  most  part,  had  gathered 
round  the  splendidly-beautiful  Helen  and  the  fascinat- 
ing little  Princess  Bolkonsky  —  who  was  so  fresh  and 
pretty,  though  rather  too  fat;  the  third  had  formed 
round  Mortemart  and  Mile.  Scherer. 

The  viscount,  who  had  a  gentle  face  and  pleasing 
manner,  wore  the  mien  of  a  celebrity,  but  he  mod- 
estly left  it  to  the  company  to  do  the  honors  of  his 
person.  Anna  Paulovna  took  every  advantage  of  this, 
with  the  air  of  a  maitre  iV hotel  who  recommends  a  dish 
as  particularly  choice  and  elegant  w^hich,  cooked  by  a 
less  skilful  hand,  would  have  proved  uneatable ;  she  had 
served  up  the  viscount  first  to  her  guests,  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  the  abbe  —  two  refined  and  delicate  morsels. 

Round  Mortemart  the  conversation  turned  on  the 
death  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien.  The  viscount  main- 
tained that  the  duke  had  died  a  victim  to  his  own  mag- 
nanimity, and  that  Bonaparte  had  a  private  and 
personal  spite  against  him. 

''Indeed  —  tell  us  all  about  it!"  cried  Anna  Paul- 
ovna. 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 

Mortemart  smiled  and  bowed  assent;  Anna  bid 
her  company  come  to  listen. 

"The  viscount,"  she  whispered  to  her  neighbor, 
"  knew  the  duke  intimately ;  the  viscount,"  she  repeated, 
turning  to  another,  "tells  a  story  delightfully;  the  vis- 
count," she  added,  to  a  third,  "  has  moved  in  the  best 
society,  that  is  evident  at  a  glance." 

And  this  was  how  the  viscount  was  handed  round 
and  offered  to  the  company  as  a  rare  treat,  in  the  most 
graceful  and  tempting  manner;  he  smiled  consciously 
as  he  began  his  story. 

"  Come  and  sit  down  here,  my  dear  Helen,"  said 
Anna  to  the  fair  girl  who  formed  the  centre  of  the  other 
circle.  Princess  Heleii  rose,  her  face  still  lighted  up  by 
the  smile  it  had  worn  ever  since  she  came  in,  and 
which  was  the  natural  adjunct  of  her  unrivalled  beauty. 
As  she  moved  across  the  room,  her  white  dress  with  its 
garlands  of  ivy  and  wild  flowers  lightly  sweeping  past 
the  men  who  made  way  for  her,  she  was  a  radiant 
vision  of  sparkling  gems,  sliming  hair  and  glistening 
shoulders  —  the  living  symbol  of  festivity.  She  did  not 
look  at  any  one  but  smiled  on  all,  vouchsafing  to  them, 
as  it  were,  the  privilege  of  gazing  at  her  splendid  figure, 
and  the  dazzling  fairness  of  her  shoulders  and  throat 
fully  displayed  by  her  fashionably  low  dress.  Helen 
was  so  surprisingly  lovely  that  slie  could  not  have  a 
grain  of  petty  vanity ;  if  she  had  felt  awkwardly  con- 
scious of  such  perfect  and  triumphant  beauty  and  had 
wished  to  mitigate  its  effect  she  could  not  have  done  it. 

*'  What  a  beautiful  creature  !"  was  on  every  lip.  The 


WAR   AND    PEACE. 

viscount's  eyes  fell,  as  if  some  supernatural  vision  had 
struck  his  sight,  when  Helen  took  a  seat  near  him 
and  turned  on  him  the  charms  of  that  perpetual  smile. 

"  I  feel  quite  shy,"  he  said,  "  before  such  an  au- 
dience." 

Helen,  leaning  her  pretty  arm  on  the  table,  did  not 
think  it  necessary  to  answer;  she  only  smiled  and 
waited.  All  the  while  the  narrator  was  speaking  she  sat 
upright  looking  sometimes  at  her  dimpled  hand,  or  at 
her  white  bosom,  adjusting  her  diamond  necklace,  pat- 
ting the  skirt  of  her  dress,  and  turning  at  the  more  ex- 
citing parts  to  look  at  her  hostess,  whose  expression  she 
would  for  a  moment  copy  and  then  relapse  into  that 
placid  smile. 

The  litUe  princess  had  come  forward,  too,  from  the 
tea-table. 

"Wait  a  moment,"  she  exclaimed,  "till  I  get  out 
my  work. —  Well,  what  are  you  about  —  what  are  you 
thinking  of?"  she  added  to  Hippolyte.  "  Give  me  my 
bag,  please." 

Laughing  and  talking  she  made  a  general  stir  in 
the  room. 

"  There,  now  I  am  quite  comfortable,"  she  added, 
seating  herself  and  taking  her  bag  from  Prince  Hippo- 
lyte wlio  drew  a  chair  to  her  side  and  sat  down. 

The  young  prince — le  charmant  Hippolyte  as  he  was 
called  —  was  strikingly  like  his  sister,  though  she  was 
"  fLiir  beyond  compare "  and  he  was  decidedly  ugly. 
Their  features  were  alike ;  but  in  her  they  were  trans- 
figured by  that  perennial,  brilliantly-youthful  and  self- 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  ^» 

\ 


satisfied  smile,  and  by  tlie  classical  proportions  of  her 
whole  face  and  figure;  while  he  looked  almost  idiotic 
and  always  sulky,  his  frame  was  feeble  and  unhealthy, 
his  eyes,  nose,  mouth  all  lost  their  individuality  in  a  sour 
and  bored  expression,  while  his  hands  and  feet  were 
never  still,  but  twisted  into  impossible  attitudes. 

"  Is  it  a  ghost-story  ?"  he  added,  sticking  his  glass 
in  his  eye,  as  if  that  would  help  him  to  express  himself. 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort,"  replied  the  viscount  quite 
taken  aback. 

"Oh! — only  I  hate  them,"  said  Hippolyte;  and  it 
was  clear  from  liis  manner  that  it  was  not  till  after  he 
had  spoken  that  he  understood  the  full  meaning  of  his 
words.  Still,  he  had  such  complete  assurance  that  it 
was  always  hard  to  tell  whether  he  was  clumsy  or  witty. 
He  wore  a  dark-green  frock-coat  and  inexpressibles  of  a 
pinkish-drab  color  —  ^^  chair  (h  ?iymphe  cniiie'^  as  he 
called  it:  "maiden's  blush"  to  translate  it  freely  — 
with  stockings  and  buckled  shoes. 

The  viscount  told  his  story  with  much  grace.  The 
Duke  d'Enghien,  it  was  said,  had  come  secretly  to 
Paris  to  see  Mile.  Georges,  and  had  there  met  Na- 
poleon, on  whom  the  great  actress  also  bestowed  her 
favors.  The  consequence  of  this  unlucky  accident 
was  one  of  those  long  fainting-fits  to  which  Bonaparte 
was  subject,  and  which  put  him  ^  the  power  of  the 
enemy.  The  duke  had  taken  no  advantage  of  his 
position,  and  Bonaparte  had  revenged  himself  for  this 
magnanimous  behavior  by  having  the  duke  assassinated. 
The  story  was  dramatic,  and  particularly  exciting  at  the 

Vol.  I.  a 


10  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

point   where    the  rivals    met.     The   ladies  were  much 
moved. 

''  It  is  delightful !"  said  Anna  Paulovna,  trying  to 
read  the  little  princess'  eyes. 

"  Quite  charming !"  said  the  little  princess,  taking 
up  her  work  with  renewed  energy,  to  show  that  the  in- 
terest of  the  narrative  had  made  her  forget  it. 

Mortemart  fully  appreciated  the  implied  compliment 
and  w^as  going  on  with  his  story,  when  Anna  Paulovna, 
i\^ho  had  kept  one  eye  on  Pierre,  perceived  that  he  and 
the  abbe  were  engaged  in  a  sharp  skirmish  and  flew  to 
avert  mischief.  Pierre  had  succeeded  in  getting  the 
abbe  into  conversation  on  the  subject  of  the  balance  of 
powder,  and  the  abbe,  evidently  enchanted  by  his  listen- 
er's ingenuous  ardor,  was  dilating  at  full  length  on  his 
cherished  scheme;  both  were  talking  loud  with  eager 
enthusiasm,  and  this  had  jarred  on  the  maid  of  honor. 

"  By  what  means  ?  Why  by  the  balance  of  power 
in  Europe  and  the  rights  of  men,"  the  abbe  was  saying. 
*'  A  single  empire,  as  powerful  as  Russia,  w^th  a  repu- 
tation for  barbarism,  frankly  setting  herself  at  the  head 
of  an  alliance  with  the  avowed  purpose  of  maintaining 
that  balance,  —  and  the  world  would  be  saved!" 

"  But  how^  w^ill  you  establish  that  balance  ?"  per- 
sisted Pierre  at  the  very  moment  when  his  hostess,  with 
a  look  of  stern  repfoof  at  him,  asked  the  Italian  how  he 
bore  the  northern  climate.  The  abbe's  face  changed  at 
once ;  he  put  on  the  softened  and  affected  expression 
which  he  commonly  wore  w^hen  addressing  a  W'Oman. 

"  I  am  too  keenly  alive  to  the  charms  of  w^it  and 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 

culture,  especially  among  the  women  of  the  society  into 
which  I  have  the  honor  of  being  admitted,  to  have 
liad  time  to  think  of  the  climate,"  he  said,  while  Mile. 
Scherer  manoeuvred  to  draw  him  and  Pierre  into  the 
general  circle  so  as  not  to  lose  sight  of  them. 

-At  this  instant  a  new  actor  appeared  on  the  scene ; 

this  was  Prince  Andre  Bolkonsky,  the  little  princess* 
husband,  a  good-looking  young  man  of  middle  height, 
with  marked,  hard  features.  Everything  about  him, 
from  his  weary  eyes  to  his  firm  and  measured  step,  was 
the  very  opposite  of  his  wife,  who  was  vivacious  and 
bustling.  He  knew  every  one  in  the  room  and  was 
bored  to  death  by  them  all  —  nay,  he  would  have  given 
a  handsome  sum  never  to  see  or  hear  any  one  of  them 
again,  his  wife  included.  She,  indeed,  seemed  more 
antipathetic  to  him  than  any  one,  and  he  turned  away 
from  her  with  a  grimace  that  disfigured  his  handsome 
features.  He  kissed  Mile.  Scherer's  hand,  and  looked 
round  at  the  company  with  a  frown. 

"  So  you  are  preparing  to  fight,  Prince  ?"  she  said. 

"  General  Koutouzow  is  kind  enough  to  wish  to 
have  me  as  his  aide-de-camp,"  replied  Bolkonsky. 

"  And  your  wife  ?" 

"  She  will  go  into  the  country." 

"  I  wonder  you  are  not  ashamed  to  deprive  us  of 
the  fascinating  little  woman  ?" 

"  Andre,"  cried  Lisa,  just  as  coquettish  with  her 
husband  as  with  every  one  else,  "  if  only  you  had  heard 
the  pretty  story  the  viscount  has  just  been  telling  us 
about  Mile.  Georges  and  Bonaparte." 


:w    it  r    xx»    rmn    upiir 


r%xr  TMe  «Pt  tm 


WAM  Ax: 


CHAPTER  II- 

■.2Ij1.k' 

aiwi      T 

-ter.- 

nXit-i;    - 

^  A-r  - 

-  P 

c:.' 

ott  of 
DO ;  K  ben^pod 

PriBoe,  of  mj  Bons  ? 

^  ^T  poor  boy." 


W  ar  a  Mxxd  to  tlie 

c  -  Gmd  at 


TXMi,  FriDoes.  that  I  V  agio 

i*e  aie<  ~  ▼ 

-e:t       ^  eqncsrt:  .  .  ^  .a 


^  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

Prince  Andr6  made  a  face  again  and  turned  away. 
Pierre,  whose  merry,  kindly  eyes  had  been  watching 
him  ever  since  his  entrance,  now  came  up  to  him  and 
took  his  hand.  The  prince's  frown  did  not  vanish  at 
the  sight  of  the  new-co^ier;  but  when,  a  moment  later, 
he  recognized  the  frank  face,  his  own  lighted  up  with  a 
cordial  smile. 

"Ah!  you  here,  afloat  on  the  tide  of  fashion!" 

"  I  knew  I  should  meet  you  here.  I  will  go  home 
to  supper  with  you  if  I  may  ?"  He  spoke  low,  not  to 
interrupt  Mortemart  who  was  still  speaking. 

"  No,  you  may  not,  of  course,"  said  Andre  laughing, 
and  wringing  his  hand  to  show  how  unnecessary  the 
question  was.  He  was  about  to  say  more,  when 
Prince  Basil  and  his  daughter  rose  and  there  was  a  little 
stir  to  make  way  for  them. 

"  Excuse  our  leaving  you,"  said  Prince  Basil  to  the 
viscount,  not  allowing  him  to  rise;  "this  tiresome  ball 
at  the  English  Embassy  deprives  us  of  a  pleasure  and 
compels  us  to  interrupt  you.  I  am  so  sorry,  my  dear 
Anna  Paulovna,  to  be  obliged  to  quit  your  delightful 
party." 

Helen  made  her  way  among  the  seats,  holding  up 
her  gown  with  one  hand  and  never  ceasing  to  smile. 
Pierre  gazed  at  her  dazzling  loveliness  in  a  rapture 
mingled  with  awe. 

"  She  is  very  handsome,"  said  Prince  Andr^. 

"  Yes,"  was  all  Pierre  answered.  . 

Prince  Basil  shook  hands  with  him  as  he  passed 
him. 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 

"  Take  that  young  bear  in  hand  and  finish  his  edu- 
cation," he  said,  turning  to  Mile.  Scherer.  "  He  has 
been  in  my  house  for  months  and  this  is  the  first  time 
I  have  seen  him  in  company.  Nothing  forms  a  young 
man  like  the  society  of  clever  women." 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  lady  smiled  and  promised  to  take  Pierre  in 
hand,  knowing  that  his  father  and  Prince  Basil  were  re- 
lated. The  old  lady,  who  had  remained  by  the  aunt, 
now  started  up  and  pursued  Prince  Basil  into  the  ante- 
room. Her  kind,  worn  face  had  lost  the  expression  of 
attentive  interest  that  she  had  assumed ;  it  betrayed 
anxiety  and  alarm. 

"  And  what  can  you  tell  me,  Prince,  of  my  Boris  ? 
I  cannot  stay  in  St.  Petersburg  any  longer.  Tell  me,  I 
entreat  you,  what  news  I  may  take  to  my  poor  boy." 

In  spite  of  Prince  Basil's  obvious  displeasure  and 
gross  want  of  politeness  in  listening  to  her,  she  smiled 
in  his  face,  and  clung  to  his  hand  to  detain  him. 
^'  What  effort  would  it  cost  you  to  say  a  word  to  the 
emperor ;  and  he  would  be  admitted  into  the  Guard  at 
once." 

"  I  assure  you,  Princess,  that  I  will  do  everything  in 
my  power,  but  there  are  difficulties  in  the  way  of  my 
preferring  such  a  request  to  his  majesty.     I  advise  you 


[6  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

Prince  Andr6  made  a  face  again  and  turned  away. 
Pierre,  whose  merry,  kindly  eyes  had  been  watching 
him  ever  since  his  entrance,  now  came  up  to  him  and 
took  his  hand.  The  prince's  frown  did  not  vanish  at 
the  sight  of  the  new-co^er;  but  when,  a  moment  later, 
he  recognized  the  frank  face,  his  own  lighted  up  with  a 
cordial  smile. 

"  Ah !  you  here,  afloat  on  the  tide  of  fashion !" 

"  I  knew  I  should  meet  you  here.  I  will  go  home 
to  supper  with  you  if  I  may  ?"  He  spoke  low,  not  to 
interrupt  Mortemart  who  was  still  speaking. 

"  No,  you  may  not,  of  course,"  said  Andre  laughing, 
and  wringing  his  hand  to  show  how  unnecessary  the 
question  was.  He  was  about  to  say  more,  when 
Prince  Basil  and  his  daughter  rose  and  there  was  a  little 
stir  to  make  way  for  them. 

"  Excuse  our  leaving  you,"  said  Prince  Basil  to  the 
viscount,  not  allowing  him  to  rise;  "  this  tiresome  ball 
at  the  English  Embassy  deprives  us  of  a  pleasure  and 
compels  us  to  interrupt  you.  I  am  so  sorry,  my  dear 
Anna  Paulovna,  to  be  obliged  to  quit  your  delightful 
party." 

Helen  made  her  way  among  the  seats,  holding  up 
her  gown  with  one  hand  and  never  ceasing  to  smile. 
Pierre  gazed  at  her  dazzling  loveliness  in  a  rapture 
mingled  with  awe. 

"  She  is  very  handsome,"  said  Prince  Andre. 

"  Yes,"  was  all  Pierre  answered. 

Prince  Basil  shook  hands  with  him  as  he  passed 
him. 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 

"  Take  that  young  bear  in  hand  and  finish  his  edu- 
cation," he  said,  turning  to  Mile.  Scherer.  "  He  has 
been  in  my  house  for  months  and  this  is  the  first  time 
I  have  seen  him  in  company.  Nothing  forms  a  young 
man  like  the  society  of  clever  women." 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  lady  smiled  and  promised  to  take  Pierre  in 
hand,  knowing  that  his  father  and  Prince  Basil  were  re- 
lated. The  old  lady,  who  had  remained  by  the  aunt, 
now  started  up  and  pursued  Prince  Basil  into  the  ante- 
room. Her  kind,  worn  face  had  lost  the  expression  of 
attentive  interest  that  she  had  assumed;  it  betrayed 
anxiety  and  alarm. 

"And  what  can  you  tell  me.  Prince,  of  my  Boris? 
I  cannot  stay  in  St.  Petersburg  any  longer.  Tell  me,  I 
entreat  you,  wliat  news  I  may  take  to  my  poor  boy." 

In  spite  of  Prince  Basil's  obvious  displeasure  and 
gross  want  of  politeness  in  listening  to  her,  she  smiled 
in  his  face,  and  clung  to  his  hand  to  detain  him. 
"  What  effort  would  it  cost  you  to  say  a  word  to  the 
emperor ;  and  he  would  be  admitted  into  the  Guard  at 
once." 

"  I  assure  you,  Princess,  that  I  will  do  everything  in 
my  power,  but  there  are  difficulties  in  the  way  of  my 
preferring  such  a  request  to  his  majesty.     I  advise  you 


2  2  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

rather   to   get   at  Roumianzow   through  Galitzine.     It 
would  be  more  to  the  purpose." 

The  old  lady  was  a  Princess  Droubetzkoi  —  one  of 
the  oldest  names  in  Russia,  but  she  was  poor,  and  hav- 
ing lived  out  of  the  world  for  years,  had  lost  all  her 
former  connections.  Slie  had  now  come  to  St.  Peters- 
burg solely  with  a  view  to  gaining  an  appointment  in 
the  Imperial  guard  for  her  only  son ;  and  it  was  in  the 
hope  of  meeting  Prince  Basil  that  slie  had  accepted 
Mile.  Scherer's  invitation.  Her  face,  which  had  once 
been  handsome,  betrayed  some  annoyance,  but  only  for 
a  moment ;  then  she  smiled  again  and  clasped  Prince 
Basil's  arm. 

"  Listen,  Prince,"  she  said.  "  I  have  never  asked 
you  for  anything  before,  and  I  will  never  ask  you  for 
anything  again;  I  have  never  taken  any  advantage  of 
the  friendship  which  once  bound  you  to  my  father. 
But  now,  for  God's  sake,  do  this  for  my  boy  and  you 
will  be  our  Providence. —  Nay,  do  not  be  angry,  l)ut 
just  promise.  I  have  asked  GaHtzine  and  he  refused. 
Be  a  dear  good  fellow,  as  you  used  to  be,"  she  added, 
trying  to  smile  while  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  Papa,  we  shall  be  late,"  said  Princess  Helen,  who 
was  waiting  at  the  door,  and  she  turned  her  lovely  face 
on  her  father. 

Power  is  capital,  and  only  to  be  used  with  economy. 
No  one  knew  this  better  than  Prince  Basil :  the  surest 
way  to  get  nothing  for  himself  was  to  petition  for  all 
who  applied  to  him  —  he  had  learnt  that  very  early. 
Hence  he  rarely  exerted  his  personal  influence;  but 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


V:^: 


Princess  Droubetzkoi's  earnest  prayers  had  stirred  some 
faint  remorse  in  the  depths  of  his  conscience.  She  had 
reminded  him  of  the  fact  that  it  was  to  her  father  that 
he  had  owed  his  first  introduction  to  a  successful  career. 
He  had  observed,  too,  that  she  was  one  of  those  women 
—  of  those  mothers,  who  neither  pause  nor  rest  till  the 
object  of  their  desires  is  gained,  and  who,  if  the  occasion 
requires  it,  are  ready  at  any  moment  Avith  fresh  entreat- 
ies and  recriminations.  This  last  reflection  turned  the 
scale. 

'^  My  dear  Anna  Mikhailovna,"  he  said  in  his  usual 
bored  tone  and  with  his  habitual  famiharity,  "  it  is  next 
to  impossible  to  do  what  you  want;  however,  I  will 
try,  in  token  of  my  regard  for  you  and  my  respect  for 
your  father's  memory.  Your  son  shall  enter  the  guard, 
I  give  you  my  word  —  now,  are  you  satisfied  ?" 

"  My  dear  friend,  you  are  my  benefactor !  I  ex- 
pected no  less,  for  I  know  how  good  you  are. —  Stop, 
one  word,"  she  cried,  seeing  him  about  to  go.  "  When 
he  is  appointed  .  .  ."  but  she  paused  in  some  confusion. 
"  You  are  on  the  best  terms  with  Koutouzow  I  know — 
you  will  recommend  Boris  for  the  post  of  aide-de- 
camp ?  Then  I  shall  be  quite  happy  and  never 
again  .  .  ." 

Prince  Basil  smiled. 

"That  I  cannot  promise.  Since  Koutouzow  was 
appointed  to  the  chief  command  he  has  been  stormed 
with  applications.  He  told  me  himself  that  all  the 
ladies  in  Moscow  had  offered  him  their  sons  as  aides- 
de-camp." 


24  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

"  No,  no ;  you  must  promise  —  my  friend,  my  pro- 
tector; promise,  or  I  will  not  let  you  go." 

"  Papa,"  said  the  fair  Helen  in  the  same  tone,  "  we 
shall  be  late." 

"  Good-bye  —  good-bye.     You  see  —  I  cannot .  .  ." 

"  Then  you  will  speak  to  the  emperor  to-morrow  ?" 

"Without  fail;  but  as  to  Koutouzow  I  promise 
nothing." 

"  My  dear  Basil,"  persisted  Anna  Mikhailovna  with 
a  coquettishly-persuasive  smile,  forgetting  that  these 
graces  of  a  past  date  were  now  out  of  harmony  with 
her  worn  features.  She  was  not  thinking  of  her  age  in- 
deed, and  was  merely,  without  a  thought,  falling  back 
on  every  feminine  resource.  But  as  soon  as  the  prince 
liad  turned  his  back  her  face  was  cold  and  anxious 
again. 

vShe  rejoined  the  circle  who  were  still  listening  to 
tlie  viscount,  watching,  now  that  her  task  was  accom- 
l)lished,  for  a  favorable  moment  for  disappearing  from 
the  scene. 

"  And  what  have  you  to  say  to  the  latest  farce,  the 
coronation  at  Milan  ?"  asked  Mile.  Scherer.  "  Witli 
the  people  of  Genoa  and  Lucca  coming  to  do  homage 
to  Monsieur  Bonaparte.  Monsieur  Bonaparte  seated 
on  a  throne  and  accepting  the  homage  of  Nations! 
It  is  delicious!  It  is  enough  to  turn  one's  brain;  the 
whole  world  must  have  gone  mad  together!'  Prince 
Andr^  looked  at  her  and  smiled : 

" '  God  has  given  it  me,  beware  of  touching  it,* " 
he  said;  they  were   Napoleon's  words  as  he  set  the 


WAR   AND    PEACE. 

crown  on  his  head.  "  They  say  he  looked  splendid  as 
he  spoke,"  he  added,  and  he  repeated  the  words  in 
Italian  :  "  Dio  mi  la  dona,  guai  a  chi  la  toca.'" 

"  I  only  hope,"  said  Mile.  Scherer,  "  that  this  will 
be  the  drop  too  much.  Really  and  truly  the  sovereigns 
of  Europe  ought  no  longer  to  endure  this  man,  who 
is  a  living  threat  to  them  all." 

''The  sovereigns!"  echoed  the  viscount  sadly,  "I  do 
not  include  Russia,"  he  added  politely.  "  The  sovereigns 
of  Europe  ?  What  did  they  do  for  Louis  XVI.,  for  the 
Queen,  for  Madame  Elizabeth?  Nothing  —  and,  be- 
lieve me,  they  are  suffering  now  for  having  betrayed  the 
cause  of  the  Bourbons.  The  sovereigns !  Why  they 
send  ambassadors  to  present  their  compliments  to  the 
usurper !"  And  he  shifted  his  attitude  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  contempt. 

Prince  Hippolyte,  who  had  not  ceased  gazing  at 
Mortemart  through  his  eye-glass,  turned  himself  stiffly 
towards  the  little  princess  of  whom  he  requested  a 
needle  with  which  he  scratched  the  outline  of  the  arms 
of  the  Conde  family,  and  then  he  blazoned  them  with 
the  utmost  gravity,  as  if  she  had  requested  it: 

"  A  baton  and  bordure  engrailed,  gules  on  azure," 
he  said. 

She  listened  placidly. 

"  If  Bonaparte  remains  a  year  longer  on  the  throne 
of  France,"  the  viscount  went  on,  like  a  man  who  is  ac- 
customed to  follow  out  his  own  train  of  thought  without 
heeding  the  reflections  of  others  on  a  familiar  subject, 
"  things  will  only  go  on  in  the  same  way.      French  so- 


2  6  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

ciety  —  good  society,  I  mean  —  will  be  utterly  disinte- 
grated by  intrigue,  violence,  exile,  and  sequestrations  — 
and  then . . ." 

He  threw  up  his  hands  with  a  shrug. 

Pierre  was  about  to  speak,  but  his  hostess,  who  was 
watching  him,  anticipated  him. 

"  The  Emperor  Alexander,"  she  said  with  her 
usual  tone  of  melancholy  reverence,  "  has  declared  that 
he  will  leave  it  to  the  French  to  choose  their  own  form 
of  government,  and  I  am  fully  convinced  that  the 
whole  nation,  when  once  they  are  delivered  from  the 
usurper,  will  throw  themselves  into  the  arms  of  the 
legitimate  monarch." 

She  was  anxious,  it  will  be  seen,  to  flatter  the 
royalist  emigrant. 

"That  is  not  very  likely,"  said  Prince  Andr^. 
"  The  viscount  is  right  in  thinking  that  matters  have 
gone  very  far  and  that  it  will  be  difficult  to  revert  to 
the  past." 

"  I  have  heard,"  said  Pierre,  coming  forward,  ''  that 
most  of  the  nobles  have  gone  over  to  Napoleon." 

"The  Bonapartists  may  say  so,"  replied  the  vis- 
count without  looking  at  Pierre.  "  It  is  impossible  to 
know  what  public  opinion  in  France  really  is." 

"  It  was  Napoleon,  at  any  rate,  who  said  it,"  re- 
plied Prince  Andre  satirically,  for  he  did  not  like  the 
viscount  whose  retorts  were  aimed  at  him.  " '  I  showed 
them  the  path  to  glory  and  they  would  not  tread  it ' — 
those  are  the  words  attributed  to  him  — '  1  opened  my 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  — 27^ 

ante-room  and  they  rushed  in  in  crowds.' —  I  do  not 
know  how  far  he  had  a  right  to  say  so." 

"  He  had  none  whatever,"  exclaimed  Mortemart. 
"  After  the  murder  of  the  Duke  d'Enghien  the  most  en- 
thusiastic ceased  to  regard  him  as  a  hero;  and  if  ever 
he  had  seemed  one  to  certain  people,"  he  continued, 
addressing  Anna  Paulovna,  "  after  that  there  was  a 
martyr  the  more  in  heaven  and  a  hero  the  less  on 
earth." 

These  last  words  had  hardly  been  uttered,  and  re- 
warded with  an  approving  smile,  before  Pierre  rushed 
into  the  arena,  without  giving  Mile.  Scherer,  who  appre- 
hended something  tremendous,  time  to  prevent  him. 

"  The  execution  of  the  duke,"  he  began,  "  was  a 
political  necessity,  and  Napoleon  showed  his  magna- 
nimity by  assuming  the  whole  responsibility  for  the  act." 

"Good  Heavens!  Good  Heavens!"  murmured 
Anna  Paulovna  in  dismay. 

"  What,  M.  Pierre,  can  you  find  any  'magnanimity* 
in  a  murder  ?"  said  the  little  princess,  shaking  up  her 
work. 

"  Oh  !  oh  !"  said  several. 

"  Capital !"  said  Prince  Hippolyte,  slapping  his 
hand  on  his  knee.  The  viscount  merely  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

Pierre  looked  at  them  over  his  spectacles. 

"  I  say  this,"  he  went  on,  "  because  the  Bourbons 
fled  at  the  revolution,  leaving  the  country  a  prey  to  an- 
archy. It  was  Napoleon  who  understood  and  quelled 
the  revolution  and  that  is  why,  when  public  order  was 


28  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

in  danger,  he  could  not  pause  to  save  the  life  of  a 
single  individual." 

"Will  you  come  to  the  other  table?"  suggested 
Anna  Paulovna.  But  Pierre,  growing  more  excited, 
went  on  with  his  speech  without  heeding  her. 

"  Yes,  Napoleon  is  great  because  he  has  risen  supe- 
rior to  the  revolution,  has  remedied  its  abuses  and  pre- 
served what  was  good  in  it :  the  equaUty  of  good 
citizens,  and  liberty  of  the  press  and  of  speech  —  that  is 
how  he  gained  his  power." 

"  If  he  had  restored  the  legtimate  king  to  the  throne, 
instead  of  taking  advantage  of  his  power  to  commit  a 
murder,  I  should  have  called  him  a  great  man,"  said 
the  viscount. 

"  That  was  out  of  his  power.  The  nation  had 
given  him  the  throne  on  purpose  that  he  might  rid  her 
of  the  Bourbons  ;  she  recognized  him  as  a  master-mind. 
The  revolution  was  a  great  fact,"  continued  Pierre,  be- 
traying his  extreme  youthfulness  by  his  persistency  in 
trying  to  explain  his  views  and  uttering  advanced  and 
irritating  ideas. 

"  The  Revolution  and  the  Regicide !  After  that !  — 
But  will  you  not  come  to  the  other  table  ?"  repeated 
the  hostess. 

''  Le  Contrat  social ."'  said  Mortemart  with  a  resigned 
smile. 

"  I  do  not  allude  to  the  Regicide  —  I  mean  the 
idea." 

"  The  idea  of  robbery,  of  murder,  and  of  regicide !" 
said  an  ironical  voice. 


WAR    AND   PEACE.  29 

"  Those  are  the  extremes ;  but  the  real  marrow  of 
the  idea  is  emancipation  from  prejudice  and  the 
equahty  of  men,  and  Napoleon  maintained  it  in  its 
integrity." 

•'  Liberty  and  equality !"  retorted  the  viscount 
scornfully,  for  he  was  bent  on  proving  to  the  young 
man  the  weakness  of  his  argument.  "  Those  high- 
sounding  words  have  already  lost  their  value.  Who 
would  not  love  the  reality  ?  The  Saviour  himself 
preached  them  ! —  But  have  we  been  any  happier  since 
the  revolution  ?  On  the  contrary.  We  asked  for 
liberty  ;   Napoleon  has  confiscated  it." 

Prince  Andre  stood  smiling  and  looking  first  at 
Pierre  and  the  viscount  and  then  at  the  mistress  of  the 
house,  who,  with  all  her  experience  of  the  world,  had 
been  shocked  and  alarmed  at  Pierre's  sallies;  however, 
when  she  saw  that  these  sacrilegious  views  did  not  make 
the  Frenchman  angry,  and  also  that  it  was  impossible 
to  check  them,  she  made  common  cause  with  the  noble 
exile  and,  in  her  turn  fell  upon  the  orator. 

"  But,  my  dear  M.  Pierre,"  she  said,  "how  can  you 
account  for  the  conduct  of  a  great  man  who  has  a  duke 
—  or  the  commonest  man  —  put  to  death  when  the 
victim  has  committed  no  crime,  and  without  even  a 
trial  ?" 

"  And  I  should  like,  too,  to  ask  you,"  said  the  vis- 
count, "to  account  for  the  i8th  Brumaire.  Was  it  not 
an  act  of  treason,  or  rather  of  trickery,  utterly  unlike 
any  impulse  of  a  great  man  ?" 

"  And  the  Turkish  prisoners  that  were  massacred 


30  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

by  his  orders,"  cried  the  little  princess.  "  It  is  perfectly- 
fearful  !" 

"  He  is  a  low  fellow,  say  what  you  will,"  Prince 
Hippolyte  threw  in. 

Pierre,  having  no  answer  ready,  looked  at  them  all 
and  smiled  —  not  a  pinched,  unmeaning  smile,  but  a 
frank  sincere  smile  which  lent  his  usually  stern  and 
rather  morose  face  an  expression  of  kindly  candor,  like 
that  of  a  child  who  pleads  to  be  forgiven. 

The  viscount,  who  had  never  seen  him  before,  un- 
derstood at  once  that  this  Jacobin  was  less  terrible  than 
his  words.     There  was  a  brief  silence. 

"  How  is  he  to  answer  you  all  at  once  ?"  said 
Prince  Andre  suddenly.  "  Is  there  no  difference  be- 
tween the  actions  of  a  private  gentleman  and  a  states- 
man —  a  general  or  a  ruler  ?  To  me,  at  any  rate,  there 
seems  to  be  a  great  difference." 

"  Why,  certainly,"  said  Pierre,  delighted  at  this  un- 
expected support.   ■ 

"  Napoleon  on  the  bridge  at  Areola  or  giving  his 
hand  to  his  plague-stricken  soldiers  is  great  as  a  man, 
and  it  is  impossible  to  refuse  to  recognize  it;  but  there 
are  other  things,  it  is  true,  which  can  hardly  be  justi- 
fied," continued  Prince  Andre,  who  was  evidently  bent 
on  making  up  for  Pierre's  blundering  and  who,  as  he 
spoke,  rose,  thus  giving  his  wife  a  hint  to  take  leave. 

Prince  Hippolyte  did  the  same,  but  with  a  wave  of 
his  hand  seemed  to  beg  the  rest  to  remain  seated. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  began  eagerly,  "  I  heard  a  de- 
lightful Russian  story  to-day — I  really  must  tell  it  you. 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


31 


Excuse  me,  Viscount,  but  I  must  tell  it  in  Russian ;  it 
would  lose  aft  its  point  .  .  ."  And  he  began  his  anec- 
dote in  Russian  with  an  aftectedly  strong  French 
accent; 

"At  Moscow  there  lives  a  grand  lady  who  is  ex- 
tremely stingy  and  who  wanted  to  drive  with  two  tall 
footmen  behind  her  carriage.  Well,  and  this  lady  had 
a  very  tall  waiting-maid  —  it  was  her  whim  .  .  ."  At 
this  point  Prince  Hippolyte  stopped  to  think,  as  if  he 
had  some  difficulty  in  going  on  with  his  story  :  "  So  she 
said  to  her  —  yes,  she  said  to  her:  'Girl — whatever 
her  name  was  —  dress  up  in  livery  and  stand  up  behind 
the  carriage,  I  am  going  to  pay  some  calls.'  " 

Here  Prince  Hippolyte  burst  out  laughing,  but  un- 
luckily no  one  echoed  his  lauglUer  and  the  story-teller 
seemed  much  damped  by  this  failure.  A  few,  however, 
managed  to  smile,  among  them  the  old  lady  and  Mile. 
Scherer. 

"  So  they  set  out.  But  suddenl)  die  wind  rose ;  the 
girl's  hat  blew  off  and  her  long  hair  came  down  .  .  ." 
Then,  unable  to  control  himself  any  longer,  he  fell  into 
such  a  fit  of  laughing  as  almost  choked  him. —  "  Yes, 
yes,"  he  said,  rolling  in  his  seat,  "  all  her  hair  came 
down,  and  the  whole  town  knew  it." 

This  was  the  end  of  the  story.  No  one  could  see 
the  point  of  it  or  why  it  had  to  be  told  in  Russian ;  but 
Anna  Paulovna  and  some  others  were  grateful  to  the 
narrator  for  having  so  happily  interrupted  M.  Pierre's 
unpleasant  and  tiresome  harangues.  The  conversation 
.was  diverted  into  more  trivial  channels  —  remarks  on 


32 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


balls  past  and  to  come,  and  on  the  theatres,  with  Mty 
questions  as  to  when  and  where  they  might  meet  again. 

After  this  the  company  thanked  their  hostess  for  a 
delightful  evening  and  withdrew  in  detachments. 

Pierre,  besides  being  unusually  tall,  square-shoul- 
dered, and  awkward,  had,  among  other  physical  blem- 
ishes, very  large  red  hands ;  he  had  no  idea  of  how  to 
come  into  a  room  and  still  less  of  how  to  get  out  of  it 
with  a  proper  modicum  of  polite  speeches.  In  his 
utter  absence  of  mind,  when  he  rose  to  leave  he  took 
up,  instead  of  his  own  hat,  the  cocked  and  plumed  hat 
of  a  general  officer,  which  he  stood  twirling  in  his  hands 
till  the  owner,  in  some  alarm,  succeeded  in  rescuing  it. 
Still,  it  must  be  said,  all  this  clumsiness  and  blundering 
were  atoned  for  by  his  thorough  good-nature,  frankness, 
and  modesty. 

Mile.  Scherer  bid  him  good-night  with  an  air  of 
forgiveness  bestowed  as  became  a  Christian. 

"  I  hope,"  she  said,  "  that  I  may  have  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  you  here  again ;  but  I  also  hope  that  before 
then  you  will  have  amended  your  opinions." 

-  He  made  no  reply,  but  as  he  bowed,  his  honest, 
simple  smile  seemed  to  say  :  "  Well,  after  all,  an  opinion 
is  but  an  opinion,  and  you  see  I  am  a  thorough  good 
fellow."  Which  was  so  true  that  every  one,  including 
Mile.  Scherer,  felt  it  instinctively. 

Prince  Andre  had  followed  his  wife  and  Hippolyte 
into  the  ante-room,  where  a  footman  was  putting  his 
cloak  over  his  shoulders. 

"  Go  into  the  drawing-room,  Annette,"  said  the  little 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  33 

lady,  "  you  will  take  cold  ...  It  is  quite  understood !" 
she  added  in  an  undertone. 

Anna  Paulo vna  had  found  an  opportunity  for 
speaking  to  Lisa  of  the  marriage  she  was  scheming  be- 
tween her  sister-in-law  and  Anatole. 

"  I  rely  on  you,"  she  replied,  also  in  a  whisper. 
"  You  will  write  her  a  line,  and  then  you  must  let  me 
know  what  her  father  thinks  of  it.  Good-night  .  .  ." 
And  she  disappeared.  Prince  Hippolyte  came  up  to 
the  princess,  and  leaning  over  her,  stood  chattering  in 
her  ear.  Two  men-servants  —  his  carrying  an  officer's 
cloak,  and  hers  holding  a  shawl  —  were  waiting  till 
they  should  have  finished  their  tete-a-tete  in  French 
which  the  servants  appeared  to  be  listening  to,  though 
it  was  unintelligible  to  them  —  nay,  and  to  understand 
without  showing  it.  The  little  princess  was  talking, 
smiling,  laughing,  all  in  a  breath. 

"  I  am  so  glad  I  did  not  go  to  the  Enghsh  Em- 
bassy," said  Hippolyte.  "  It  would  have  been  such  a 
bore,  and  we  have  had  such  a  delightful  evening.  De- 
lightful, hasn't  it  been  ?" 

"  But  they  say  it  is  to  be  a  splendid  ball,"  said  the 
princess  Avith  a  curl  of  that  downy  lip,  "  and  all  the 
pretty  women  in  St.  Petersburg  are  there." 

"  Not  all,  since  you  are  not,"  said  the  prince  laugh- 
ing. Then,  taking  the  shawl  -out  of  the  footman's 
hands  and  pushing  him  aside,  he  wrapped  it  round  the 
princess.  His  hands  fumbled  with  it  for  some  little 
time  round  her  throat,  and  he  almost  seemed  to  em- 
brace her  —  was  it  intentional  or  mere  clumsiness?  No 

Vol.  J.  3 


34  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

one  could  have  decided. —  She  drew  back  a  httle,  still 
smiling,  and  looked  up  at  her  husband  whose  eyes  were 
shut  and  who  looked  tired  and  half-asleep. 

"  Are  you  ready  ?"  he  said,  with  a  side-glance  at  his 
wife.  Prince  Hippolyte  hastily  flung  on  his  cloak, 
which  being  in  the  latest  fashion  fell  below  his  heels, 
and  stumbling  and  struggling  with  it  he  rushed  forward 
to  help  the  princess  into  her  carriage. 

"  All  revoir,  Princess,"  he  said,  his  tongue  as  clumsy 
as  Ijis  feet.  The  princess  picked  up  her  dress  and 
settled  herself  in  the  dark  corner  of  the  carriage ;  her 
husband  was  taking  up  his  sword.  Prince  Hippolyte, 
who  seemed  to  be  helping  them,  was  only  in  the  way. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ..."  said  Prince  Andre  in  a 
dry,  sharp  tone  and  in  Russian,  for  Hippolyte  stood  in 
his  path.  "  Now,  Pierre,  you  will  follow  us,"  he  added 
warmly. 

The  postilion  started  and  the  carriage  rolled  clat- 
tering away. 

Hippolyte,  standing  on  the  step,  giggled  uncom- 
fortably ;  he  was  waiting  for  the  viscount  whom  he  had 
promised  to  take  home. 

"  Well,  my  dear  fellow,  your  little  princess  is  very 
nice,  very  nice  indeed,"  said  Mortemart  as  he  seated 
himself  in  the  carriage,  "  very  nice  indeed  ma  foi  /'' 
and  he  kissed  the  tips  of  his  fingers.  Hippolyte  chuckled 
complacently.  '•  And  you,  do  you  know  you  are 
dangerous  with  your  innocent  ways  ?  I  pity  the  poor 
husband  —  a  little  officer  who  gives  himself  as  many 
airs  as  a  sovereign  prince." 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  35 

Hippolyte  went  into  fits  of  laughter. 

"  And  you  said  that  Russian  women  were  nowhere, 
as  compared  with  French  women !  "  he  sputtered. 
*'  You  must  know  how  to  take  them,  that  is  all." 


CHAPTER  III. 

Pierre,  having  reached  the  house  first,  went  straight 
into  Prince  Andre's  private  room  as  an  intimate  in  the 
house ;  he  stretched  himself  on  a  sofa,  as  was  his  wont, 
and  took  up  a  book  —  it  happened  to  be  Caesuras 
Cotnmentaries  —  which  he  opened  in  the  middle. 

*'  What  have  you  been  doing  at  Mile.  Scherer's  ?" 
said  Prince  Andre.  "  You  will  really  make  her  ill." 
He  came  in  rubbing  his  hands  which  were  small  and 
white. 

Pierre  turned  over,  all  at  once,  making  the  sofa 
groan  under  his  weight;  and  looking  up  at  his  friend 
with  his  bright,  eager  face,  he  said  with  an  indifferent 
shrug : 

"  That  abbe  is  really  a  very  interesting  man  only  he 
has  got  hold  of  the  wrong  end  of  the  matter  ...  I  have 
not  a  doubt  that  a  permanent  peace  is  quite  possible, 
but  I  cannot  see  my  way  to  it;  not  by  a  balance  of 
power  at  any  rate  .  .  ." 

Prince    Andre,   who   did   not   look  like   a   man   to 


^6  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

trouble  himself  about  abstract  questions,  interrupted 
him : 

"  My  dear  fellow,  the  thing  that  is  absolutely  im- 
possible is  that  we  should  everywhere  and  at  all  times 
say  exactly  what  we  think.  Now,  have  you  made  up 
your  mind  ?  will  you  be  a  horse-guardsman  or  a  diplo- 
matist ?" 

"  Would  you  believe  that  I  really  do  not  know  yet. 
Neither  prospect  smiles  upon  me,"  said  Pierre,  sitting 
up  on  his  heels  on  the  divan  like  a  Turk. 

"  Still,  you  must  come  to  some  decision ;  your 
father  is  waiting." 

Pierre  had  been  sent  abroad  at  the  age  of  ten  with 
an  abbe  for  a  tutor;  he  had  remained  absent  till  he  was 
five-and-twenty.  On  his  return  his  father  had  dismissed 
the  abbe,  and  said  to  the  young  man : 

"  Now,  go  to  St.  Petersburg,  enquire  for  yourself  and 
choose.  I  will  agree  to  anything  you  wish.  Here  is  a 
letter  to  Prince  Basil,  and  here  is  money.  Write  to  me 
and  rely  on  my  doing  what  I  can  for  you." 

Since  then  for  three  months  Pierre  had  been  looking 
about  him  and  doing  nothing. 

He  passed  his  hand  over  his  forehead :  "  He  must 
be  a  freemason  ?"  he  said,  alluding  to  the  Italian  abbe. 

"That  is  all  nonsense,"  said  Prince  Andre.  "I 
want  to  talk  about  your  affairs.  Did  you  go  to  see  the 
mounted  brigade?" 

"  No,  I  did  not  go.  But  I  thought  over  one  thing 
which  I  meant  to  tell  you.  We  are  at  war  with  Napo- 
leon ;  if  we  were  fighting  for  liberty  I  should  be  the  first 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  37 

to  join,  but  when  it  means  helping  England  and  Aus- 
tria to  crush  the  greatest  man  now  living,  I  do  not  see 
my  way  to  it." 

Prince  Andre  raised  his  shoulders  at  this  childish 
sally;  he  scorned  to  answer  it  seriously,  and  only  said-i 

"  If  we  only  fought  for  our  convictions  there  would  \ 
be  an  end  of  war."  j 

"  Nothing  could  be  better,"  retorted  Pierre.  y 

"  Possibly,  but  it  will  never  come  to  pass,"  said 
Andre  smiHng. 

"  But  come  now,  what  are  we  going  to  war  about?" 

"  I  have  not  the  faintest  idea.  We  must;  and  what 
is  more  I  am  going  to  the  front  .  .  ."  he  paused,  "  be- 
cause the  life  I  lead  here .  . .  does  not  suit  me." 

The  rustle  of  a  dress  was  audible  in  the  adjoining 
room.  The  sound  seemed  to  bring  Prince  Andre  to 
himself;  he  drew  himself  up  and  put  on  the  expression 
his  face  had  worn  all  the  evening  at  Mile.  Scherer's. 
Pierre  shpped  his  feet  off  the  couch.  The  princess 
came  in ;  she  had  changed  the  dress  she  had  been 
wearing  for  a  loose  gown  equally  fresh  and  elegant; 
her  husband  rose  and  politely  pushed  forward  an  easy- 
chair. 

"  I  often  wonder,"  she  began,  seating  herself  briskly, 
"  why  Annette  never  married.  You  are  very  foolish, 
you  men,  not  to  have  asked  her.  Begging  your  pardon, 
you  really  know  nothing  about  women. —  What  a 
wrangler  you  are,  M.  Pierre." 

"  I  might  wrangle  with  your  husband,  too,  for  I 
cannot   understand   why   he   is   going  to  fight,"   said 


3©  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

Pierre,  addressing  her  without  any  sign  of  the  embar- 
rassment which  is  sometimes  perceptible  in  a  young 
man  with  a  young  woman.  She  shuddered  sHghtly ; 
Pierre's  remark  had  touched  her  to  the  quick. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  tell  him,  too.  I  cannot  con- 
ceive why  men  cannot  live  without  fighting.  Why  do 
we  wish  for  nothing,  ask  nothing  —  we  women  ?  Now, 
I  appeal  to  you.  I  am  always  telling  him  that  his  po- 
sition here  as  my  uncle's  aide-de-camp  is  all  he  could 
wish;  every  one  knows  him,  every  one  values  him. 
Only  the  other  day  at  the  Apraxines'  I  heard  a  lady 
say  :  *  That  is  the  famous  Prince  Andre  ' —  on  my  word 
she  did."  And  she  shouted  with  laughter.  *'  And  it  is 
the  same  wherever  he  goes  ;  he  can  be  aide-de-camp  to 
the  emperor  any  day  he  pleases  —  for  the  emperor,  you 
know,  has  spoken  most  graciously  to  him.  We  were 
talking  it  over  just  now,  Annette  and  I  —  it  would  be 
so  easy  to  manage.     What  do  you  think  ?" 

Pierre  looked  at  Andre,  and  seeing  that  his  friend 
looked  annoyed  he  made  no  reply. 

"  When  do  you  start  ?"  h'e  asked. 

"  Oh!  do  not  talk  of  his  starting;  I  will  not  hear  a 
word  about  it !"  exclaimed  the  princess,  with  that  odd 
mixture  of  waywardness  and  light-heartedness  that  she 
had  shown  to  Prince  Hippolyte,  and  which  was 
strangely  discordant  in  the  intimacy  of  home.  "  To-day, 
as  I  thought  that  I  should  have  to  break  off  all  these 
dear  connections  —  and  besides  —  Andre,"  and  she 
winked  her  eyes  with  a  little  shiver,  "  I  am  afraid." 

Her  husband  looked  at  her  in  a  bewildered  way,  as 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  39 

if  he  had  only  just  become  aware  of  her  presence ;  he 
answered  her  with  cold  politeness : 

"  What  are  you  afraid  of,  Lisa  ?  I  do  not  under- 
stand." 

"How  like  a  man!  Selfish  —  they  are  all  selfish! 
He  has  taken  this  fancy  into  his  head  so  he  deserts  me, 
God  knows  why,  and  shuts  me  up  all  alone,  in  the 
country." 

"  With  my  father  and  sister,  remember." 

"  It  comes  to  the  same  thing ;  I  shall  be  alone, 
away  from  my  own  friends  —  and  then  he  expects  me 
to  be  satisfied !" 

She  spoke  petulantly  and  her  short  upper  lip  no 
longer  gave  her  face  a  smiling  expression  but,  on  the 
contrary,  a  look  that  suggested  some  vicious  little  ro- 
dent. But  she  was  silent,  not  liking  to  assign  the  real 
reason  of  her  terrors  before  Pierre. 

"  I  cannot  imagine  what  you  have  to  fear,"  her  hus- 
band went  on,  fixing  his  eyes  on  her.  She  colored,  and 
with  a  little  desperate  shrug  she  exclaimed :  "  Andre, 
Andre,  why  are  you  so  changed  ?" 

"Your  doctor  tells  you  not  to  sit  up  late;  you 
ought  to  go  to  bed." 

The  princess  made  no. reply  but  her  lips  quivered; 
her  husband  rose  and  began  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
room.  Pierre,  frankly  astonished,  watched  them  alter- 
nately ;  at  last  he  was  about  to  go,  but  he  stopped. 

"What  do  I  care  whether  M.  Pierre  is  present  or 
not,"  exclaimed  Lisa,  her  face  puckered  up  like  that  of 
a  child  just  going  to  cry.     "  I  have  been  meaning  to 


40  WAR   AND   PEACE. 

ask  you  for  a  long  time,  Andre,  why  you  are  quite  dif- 
ferent to  me  from  what  you  once  were  ?  What  harm 
have  I  done  ?  You  are  going  off  to  the  army ;  you 
have  no  pity  for  me  —  why  ?" 

"  Lisa !"  said  Prince  Andre.  The  word  conveyed 
an  entreaty,  a  threat,  and  a  warning  that  she  would 
presently  regret  her  speech.  But  she  went  recklessly  on': 

"You  treat  me  Hke  an  idiot  or  a  child.  I  can 
see  ...  it  was  not  so  six  months  ago !" 

"  Lisa,  be  silent,  I  beg,"  said  her  husband  raising 
his  voice. 

Pierre,  whose  painful  excitement  had  gradually  in- 
creased during  this  dialogue,  rose  and  went  up  to  the 
young  woman.  He  could  not  bear  to  see  her  tears 
and  seemed  almost  ready  to  cry,  too. 

"  Be  calm.  Princess,"  he  said.  *'  These  are  fancies 
—  I  know,  I  have  felt  the  same  kind  of  thing  —  and  I 
assure  you  —  excuse  me,  I  am  in  the  way,  a  stranger. 
But  pray  be  calm. —  Good-night." 

Prince  Andre  detained  him. 

"  No,  stay;  the  princess  is  too  kind  to  deprive  me 
of  the  pleasure  of  an  evening  in  your  society." 

"  Yes,  he  thinks  of  no  one  but  himself,"  she  mut- 
tered, unable  to  control  her  tears  of  vexation. 

"  Lisa,"  repeated  Prince  Andre,  his  hard  stern  tonf 
showing  plainly  that  his  patience  was  wearing  thin 
Suddenly  her  pretty  little  face  —  like  that  of  a  squirre 
in  a  rage  —  took  a  quite  different  expression  ;  the  cowe 
doubtful  look  of  a  dog  with  its  tail  down  wagging 
noiselessly  on  the  floor. 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  4I 

'' Oh  dear !  oh  dear!"  she  sighed,  with  a  sidelong 
scowl  at  her  husband;  then,  gathering  up  her  dress,  she 
went  up  to  him  and  kissed  his  forehead. 

"  Good-night,"  he  said,  and  he  rose  and  kissed  her 
hand  as  if  she  had  been  a  stranger. 

The  friends  were  silent ;  neither  of  them  could  make 
up  his  mind  to  speak.  Pierre  stole  a  glance  at  Prince 
Andre  who  was  rubbing  his  forehead  slowly  with  his 
slim  hand. 

"  Come  to  supper,"  he  said  leading  the  way.  They 
went  into  a  splendid  dining-room  recently  redecorated; 
the  glass,  plate,  china,  and  damask  all  were  unmistak- 
ably new  —  the  sign  of  a  recently-established  house- 
hold. In  the  middle  of  supper  Prince  Andre  put  his 
elbows  on  the  table,  and  began  talking  with  a  nervous 
irritability  which  was  new  to  Pierre ;  like  a  man  who 
has  had  something  on  his  mind  for  a  long  time,  and  has 
determined  at  last  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  it. 

"  My  dear  fellow,  do  not  marry  till  you  have  done 
everything  in  life  that  you  care  to  do,  till  you  have 
ceased  to  love  the  woman  you  mean  to  marry,  and 
have  studied  her  thoroughly :  if  you  do,  you  will  make 
a  fatal  and  irreparable  mistake.  Belter  wait  till  you  are 
old  and  good  for  nothing  else ;  then  you  will  not  run 
the  risk  of  wasting  everything  good  and  noble  in  your 
soul.  Yes,  it  all  gets  frittered  away  in  small  change ! 
—  It  is  so,  I  assure  you;  you  need  not  look  so  aston- 
ished. If  you  ever  hoped  and  believed  that  you  would 
do  anything  worth  doing,  you  will  feel  at  every  turn 
that  it  is  all  at  an  end ;  that  every  door  is  closed  but 


42  WAR    AND   PEACE. 

those  into  drawing-rooms  where  you  elbow  court  toadies 
and  idiots. —  But  what  is  the  use  .  .  .  ?"  He  let  his 
hand  fall  heavily  on  the  table. 

Pierre  took  off  his  spectacles,  and  this,  which  com- 
pletely altered  his  face,  revealed  still  more  plainly  his 
amiability  and  his  astonishment. 

"  My  wife,"  Prince  Andre  went  on,  "  is  a  good  little 
wife,  a  woman  in  whose  hands  her  husband's  honor  is 
perfectly  safe.  But  what  would  I  not  give  at  this  mo- 
ment. Great  Heavens,  not  to  be  married !  You  are  the 
first  and  only  soul  to  whom  I  have  confessed  it  —  for  I 
love  you." 

As  he  spoke  Andre  was  less  and  less  like  the  Prince 
Bolkonsky  who  had  sat  bolt  upright  in  his  chair  at 
Mile.  Scherer's,  firing  off  short  sentences  in  French, 
in  a  low  tone  and  with  his  eyes  half-shut.  Every 
muscle  of  his  thin,  keen  face  quivered  with  feverish  ex- 
citement, and  his  eyes,  in  which  the  fire  seemed  always 
dead,  shone  and  sparkled  vividly.  It  was  easy  to  guess 
that  he  would  be  violent  in  his  short  bursts  of  morbid 
irritation  in  proportion  to  his  habitual  apathy  and 
nervelessness. 

"  You  do  not  understand !  and  yet  it  is  the  story  of 
a  whole  life.  You  talk  of  Bonaparte  and  his  career," 
he  went  on,  though  Pierre  had  not  breathed  a  syllable, 
'^  but  Bonaparte  while  he  toiled  was  making  straight 
for  his  goal,  step  by  step;  he  was  free;  he  had  but  one 
-object  in  view  and  he  gained  it.  But  once  tie  yourself 
i;o  a  woman  and  you  are  chained  like  a  galley-slave. 
Every  impulse  and  aspiration,  the  very    forces  within 


WAR  AND    PEACE.  43 

you,  only  crush  you  and  fill  you  with  regret.  Drawing- 
room  gossip,  balls,  vanities,  meannesses  —  these  are  the 
charmed  circle  that  fence  you  in.  I  am  starting  to 
help  in  this  war  —  one  of  the  most  tremendous  wars 
ever  waged  —  and  I  know  nothing,  am  fit  for  nothing. 
To  make  up  for  it  I  am  most  amiable,  most  satirical,  at 
Mile.  Scherer's  they  hang  on  my  lips! — Then  think 
of  that  dull  society  which  my  wife  cannot  bear  to 
do  without ! —  If  only  you  could  know  what  all  these 
fine  ladies  —  nay,  all  women  —  are  worth.  My  father 
is  right:  Egoism,  vanity,  folly,  utter  mediocrity  —  that 
is  the  essence  of  woman  when  she  shows  her  real  self. 
When  you  see  tliem  in  the  world  you  might  fancy  there 
was  something  better  in  them;  but  no  —  nothing, 
nothing !     My  dear  fellow,  never  marry  .  .  .  ." 

Prince  Andre  finished  with  these  words. 

"  But  what,  to  me,  seems  strange,"  said  Pierre,  "  is 
that  you,  of  all  men,  should  think  yourself  incapable  and 
a  failure,  when  the  future  is  before  you,  and  .  .  ." 

His  very  voice  showed  how  highly  he  thought  of 
his  friend  and  how  much  he  expected  of  him. 

"  What  right  has  he  to  talk  so,"  thought  Pierre,  to 
whom  Prince  Andre  was  the  type  of  perfection,  pre- 
cisely because  he  felt  that  the  prince  possessed  the 
quality  which  he  himself  most  lacked :  Force  and  Will. 
He  had  always  admired  the  ease  and  equanimity  of  his 
friend's  demeanor  towards  others  in  every  rank  of  life, 
his  wonderful  memory^  his  various  knowledge  —  for  he 
read  or  made  note  of  everything  —  and  his  powers  of 
work  and  study.      And  if  Pierre  had  ever  been  struck 


44  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

at  finding  in  Andre  no  taste  for  speculative  philosophy, 
which  was  his  own  particular  weakness,  he  regarded  it 
not  as  a  deficiency  but  as  a  proof  of  strength.  In  all 
the  relations  of  life,  however  intimate,  friendly  and 
simple,  flattery  and  praise  are  as  indispensable  as  the 
oil  which  greases  a  machine  and  makes  it  work. 

"I  —  I  am  done  for;  do  not  talk  about  me  but 
about  yourself,"  said  the  prince  presently,  smiUng  at 
having  hit  on  so  happy  a  diversion. 

"  About  me  ?"  said  Pierre,  and  his  face  reflected  his 
friend's  look  in  a  broad,  merry,  boylike  smile.  "  But 
there  is  nothing  to  be  said  about  me.  After  all,  what 
am  I  ?  A  bastard ! . . ."  And  he  colored  deeply,  for  it  had 
been  a  great  effort  to  bring  out  the  word.  "  Without 
a  name,  without  money,  and  —  and  yet  free  and  happy, 
for  the  present  at  any  rate.  Only  I  may  honestly  con- 
fess that  I  do  not  know  what  I  had  better  set  to  work 
to  do,  and  I  really  want  your  advice  on  the  subject." 

Andre  looked  at  him  with  kindly  benevolence,  but 
it  was  a  benevolence  which  betrayed  a  consciousness  of 
superiority. 

"  I  have  a  great  affection  for  you,  because  you  are 
the  only  living  soul  in  all  our  circle  of  acquaintance ; 
you  are  happy,  you  say  —  well,  choose  as  you  please ; 
the  choice  matters  little.  You  will  get  on  anywhere. — 
But  I  do  beg  you  to  break  with  the  Kouraguines ;  give 
up  that  side  of  your  life;  this  debauched,  devil-may- 
care  existence  does  not  in  the  least  become  you." 

"  What  is  to  be  done,  my  dear  fellow  ?"  said  Pierre, 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  45 

shrugging  his  shoulders,  "  the  women,  you  know,  the 
women !" 

"  I  do  not  admit  it,"  said  Andre.  "  Women  of  good 
breeding,  yes  —  but  not  such  women  as  take  up  with 
Kouraguine." 

Pierre  was  Hving  with  Prince  Basil  and  led  the 
same  dissipated  life  as  his  youngest  son  Anatole  —  the 
very  man  who  was  to  be  married  to  Prince  Andre's 
sister  in  the  hope  of  reforming  him. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Pierre,  as  if  he  had  had  a 
sudden  inspiration,  "  I  have  been  thinking  of  it  seriously 
for  a  long  time.  It  is  owing  to  that  sort  of  life  that  I 
am  unable  to  think  or  decide  on  anything  —  that  I 
have  headaches,  and  no  money.  He  asked  me  again 
this  evening,  but  I  will  not  go." 

"  Give  me  your  word  of  honor  that  you  will  give  it 
up." 

"  On  my  word,  I  will."  ^ 


CHAPTER  IV. 

It  was  past  one  o'clock  when  Pierre  left  his  friend. 
It  was  a  midsummer  night  —  a  northern  night  of  lumi- 
nous twilight;  he  got  into  a  hackney-carriage,  firmly 
mtending  to  go  home.  But  as  he  drove  along  he  felt 
that  sleep  was  out  of  the  question  in  such  a  night  as 
this^  which  was  more  like  the  evening  or  dawn  of  a  fine 


6  WAR    AND    PEACE. 


day.  He  looked  down  the  long  perspective  of  the 
empty  streets.  Then  he  remembered  that  the  club  of 
gamblers  were  to  meet  to-night  at  AnatoleKouragiiine's; 
after  cards  they  drank. 

''  Supposing  I  were  to  go  ?"  he  said  to  himself,  and 
then  he  remembered  the  promise  he  had  just  made  to 
Prince  Andre. 

At  the  same  time  such  a  wild  desire  came  over  him 
—  as  it  does  in  men  of  no  determination  —  to  enjoy, 
just  once  more,  that  dissipated  life  which  he  knew  only 
too  well,  that  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  Anatole's 
rooms,  persuading  himself  that  his  word  was  not  bind- 
ing, since  he  had  promised  Anatole  one  thing  before  he 
had  promised  Andre  another ;  that,  take  them  for  all  in 
all,  such  pledges  were  merely  conventional  and  had  no 
definite  meaning;  that,  after  all,  no  one  could  be  sure 
of  to-morrow,  or  know  whether  some  extraordinary  ac- 
cident might  not  sweep  honor  and  dishonor,  with  life, 
into  the  grave.  This  habit  of  arguing  with  himself 
often  upset  what  seemed  to  be  his  most  deliberate 
purpose. 

Pierre  gave  way,  and  went  to  Kouraguine's.  He 
drew  up  at  the  front  steps  of  a  large  house  standing 
close  to  the  barracks  of  the  household  cavalry,  went  up 
and  into  the  door  which  stood  wide  open.  There  was 
no  one  in  the  hall.  The  place  smelt  of  wine ;  empty 
bottles,  cloaks,  and  overshoes  were  strewed  about,  and 
the  noise  of  shouts  and  talking  came  from  some  upper 
room. 

Cards  and  supper  were  over,  but  the  company  had 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  47 

not  separated.  Pierre,  having  flung  off  his  cloak,  went 
up  into  the  first  room  where  the  remains  of  the  supper 
were  to  be  seen  and  a  footman  was  leisurely  drink- 
ing the  sips  of  wine  left  in  the  glasses.  Further  on,  in 
another  room,  above  the  general  hubbub  of  laughter 
and  shouting,  the  growls  of  a  bear  were  audible. 
Eight  young  men  were  crowding  eagerly  round  an  open 
window;  three  of  them  were  playing  with  a  bear-cub 
which  one  was  dragging  about  by  a  chain  and  stirring 
up  to  frighten  his  companions. 

"  I  will  back  Stevens !"  cried  one. 

"  But  you  must  not  help  him,"  said  a  second. 

"  I  am  for  Dologhow,"  cried  a  third. 

"  Kouraguine,  come  and  part  them  .  .  ." 

"  No,  no,  Mickka;  leave  them  alone  ;  it  is  a  bet." 

"  He  must  do  it  at  one  pull  or  it  does  not  count !" 
said  a  fourth. 

''  Jacques,  bring  a  bottle,"  said  the  master  of  the 
house  at  the  top  of  his  voice.  He  was  a  tall  hand- 
some fellow  who  had  taken  his  coat  off,  and  his  shirt 
was  open  on  his  breast. 

"  Stay  —  wait  a  minute,  gentlemen,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  Here  is  our  dearly  beloved  Petrouchka,"  and  he 
turned  to  Pierre. 

A  man  of  middle  height,  with  pale-blue  eyes,  whose 
calm  and  sober  voice  contrasted  strangely  with  the 
vinous  tones  of  the  rest  of  the  party,  called  to  him  from 
the  window : 

"  Come  here  —  I  will  explain  tlie  betting." 

This   was    Dologhow,  an  officer   of  Semenovsky's 


48  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

regiment,  a  well-known  bully  and  gambler,  who  lived 
with  Anatole.    Pierre  looked  about  him  smiling  brightly  : 

"  What  is  going  on  ?     I  do  not  miderstand." 

"Stop  a  minute — he  is  sober!"  exclaimed  Anatole. 
"  Bring  some  wine ;  make  haste,"  and  taking  a  glass 
from  the  table  he  went  up  to  him.  "  First  of  all  you 
must  drink." 

Pierre  swallowed  glass  after  glass,  but  this  did  not 
prevent  his  listenhig  to  what  was  going  on,  and  glanc- 
ing out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  at  the  company  who 
were  all  tipsy  and  crowding  round  the  window.  Ana- 
tole poured  out  the  wine  for  him  and  told  him  mean- 
while how  the  wager  stood  between  Dologhow  and 
Stevens,  an  Englishman  in  the  navy.  The  Russian 
had  backed  himself  to  drink  off  a  bottle  of  rum,  sitting 
on  the  sill  of  the  window  of  the  third  story  with  his 
legs  hanging  outside. 

"  Here,  finish  it  off,"  said  Anatole,  offering  Pierre 
the  last  glass.     "  I  will  not  let  you  off." 

"  No,  I  don't  want  any  more,"  said  Pierre,  pushing 
away  his  friend  and  going  to  the  window. 

Dologhow,  a  young  man  of  about  five-and-twenty, 
was  of  middle  height  with  curly  hair  and  blue  eyes. 
He,  like  all  infantry  officers  at  that  time,  wore  no  mous- 
tache, and  his  mouth,  which  was  his  most  striking 
feature,  was  therefore  visible.  It  was  singularly  well 
shaped  and  fine  with  the  upper  lip  closing  firmly  on  the 
lower  one,  which  was  a  little  heavy ;  the  comers  were 
marked  by  a  perpetual  smile  —  by  two  perpetual  smiles, 
as  it  were,  one  the  counterpart  of  the  other ;  and  this. 


WAR   AND   PEACE.  49 

added  to  his  look  of  steady  and  intelligent  confidence, 
commanded  attention.  He  had  no  fortune,  and  no 
connections;  he  lived  with  Anatole  Kouraguine,  spent 
thousands  of  roubles,  and  in  spite  of  everything  con- 
trived to  be  far  more  respected  by  their  acquaintance 
than  Anatole  himself  He  played  every  kind  of  game, 
always  won,  and  drank  hugely  but  never  lost  his  head. 
He  and  Kouraguine  were  at  that  time  celebrities  among 
the  rakes  and  spendthrifts  of  St.  Petersburg. 

A  bottle  of  rum  was  brought  in ;  two  servants,  evi- 
dently rather  scared  by  the  shouts  and  orders  that 
pelted  them  from  all  sides,  hastened  to  break  away  the 
sash-frame  which  prevented  a  man  from  sitting  on  the 
high  outer  sill  of  the  window.  Anatole  came  up  with 
his  swaggering  air;  he  longed  to  break  something,  and 
pushing  away  the  servants  he  pulled  the  sash  inwards. 
It  was  too  strong  to  give  way,  but  the  panes  flew  to 
pieces. 

"  Now  it  is  your  turn,  Hercules,"  he  said  to  Pierre. 

Pierre  took  hold  of  the  frame,  gave  it  a  wrench,  and 
the  woodwork,  which  was  oak,  came  away  with  a  crash. 

"  Break  it  all  away  or  you  might  fancy  I  clung  to 
it,"  said  Dologhow. 

"  The  Englishman  feels  very  safe,  I  fancy,"  said 
Anatole. 

"  Well  done !"  said  Pierre,  keeping  his  eye  on  Do- 
loghow, who  with  the  bottle  of  rum  in  his  hand  went 
towards  the  window  where  morning  and  evening  light 
were  beginning  to  meet.  He  sprang  up  on  the  low 
Hdge  with  the  bottle  in  one  hand. 

Vol.  I.  A 


50  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

"  Listen,"  he  said,  standing  in  the  embrasure  with 
his  face  to  the  room.  Every  one  was  silent.  "  I 
wager,"  —  in  order  that  the  EngHshman  might  under- 
stand him  he  spoke  French,  and  very  badly,  too, —  "  I 
wager  fifty  imperials  —  or  shall  I  say  a  hundred  ?" 

"  No,  fifty." 

"Very  well,  fifty  imperials,  that  I  will  drink  the 
whole  of  this  bottle  of  rum,  without  taking  my  lips  from 
the  bottle;  and  that  I  will  drink  it  there"  —  and  he 
pointed  to  the  sloping  stone  sill —  "  sitting  on  that,  and 
holding  on  to  nothing.     Is  that  it  ?" 

"  Quite  right,"  said  the  Englishman. 

Anatole  holding  Stevens  by  a  button  and  looking 
down  at  him,  for  Stevens  was  a  little  man,  repeated  the 
terms  of  tlie  bet  in  English. 

"  And  that  is  not  all,"  Dologhow  went  on,  rapping 
the  bottle  against  the  woodwork  to  command  attention. 
"That  is  not  all.  Kouraguine  —  listen!  If  any  one 
else  does  the  same  I  will  give  him  a  hundred  imperials. 
Do  you  all  understand  ?"  The  Englishman  bowed, 
without  explaining  whether  or  no  he  accepted  this 
second  wager.  Anatole  still  held  him  fast  and  trans- 
lated Dologhow's  words  in  spite  of  Stevens'  repeated 
nods  of  intelligence  and  assent.  A  young  hussar  who 
had  been  out  of  luck  all  the  evening  pulled  himself  up 
to  the  high  window  and  leaned  out  to  look  down. 

"  Oh,  ho !"  he  muttered  doubtfully,  as  he  measured 
the  height  from  the  pavement  with  his  eye. 

''  Silence,"   cried   Dologhow ;    he   pulled   back  th>2 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  5 1 

young  officer,  who,  being  hampered  by  his  spurs, 
leaped  awkwardly  into  the  room. 

The  bottle  was  placed  within  reach;  Dologhow 
slowly  and  carefully  got  astride  on  the  window  sill,  and 
placing  a  hand  on  each  side  of  it  he  seemed  to  be 
measuring  the  width.  Then  he  gently  seated  himself, 
left  hold,  leaned  a  little  this  way  and  that  and  took  up 
the  bottle.  Anatole  brought  a  pair  of  candles  and 
placed  them  in  the  bay,  though  it  was  now  broad  day- 
light. Dologhow's  back  as  he  sat  in  his  shirt,  and  his 
crisp  hair  were  thus  lighted  on  either  side.  They  all 
stood  round  the  window,  the  Englishman  in  front, 
Pierre  smiling  and  silent.  Suddenly  one  of  the  party, 
alarmed  and  shocked,  slipped  forward,  intending  to 
take  hold  of  Dologhow's  shirt. 

"This  is  madness;  he  will  kill  himself!"  said  the 
man — wiser,  beyond  a  doubt,  than  his  companions. 

Anatole  held  him  back. 

"  Do  not  touch  him ;  you  will  startle  him  and  he 
will  fall,  and  what  then  ?  Heh !" 

Dologhow,  resting  on  his  hands  and  feeling  his 
balance,  looked  back. 

"  If  any  one  interferes  again  I  will  have  hmi  down 
there  in  no  time;  Do  you  hear?"  he  said  speaking 
slowly  and  pinching  his  lips  tight.  Then  he  sat 
straight,  put  the  bottle  to  his  lips,  and  threw  back  his 
head  raising  his  free  hand  to  balance  himself  One  of 
the  servants  who  was  clearing  the  table  stood  motion- 
less and  never  took  his  eyes  oft"  Dologhow's  head. 

The  Englishman   looked    another   way,  his  mouth 


52  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

tightly  shut,  and  the  Russian  who  had  tried  to  prevent 
this  insane  piece  of  folly  had  flung  himself  on  a  divan 
in  a  corner  of  the  room  with  his  face  to  the  wall. 
Pierre  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  a  ghastly  smile 
of  horror  and  fright  parting  his  lips.  There  was  solemn 
silence. 

Pierre  presently  looked  to  see  what  was  happening. 
Dologhow  was  in  the  same  position,  excepting  that  his 
head  was  so  far  thrown  back  that  his  hair  rested  on  his 
shirt  collar,  while  his  right  arm,  holding  the  bottle,  was 
slowly  rising  higher  —  higher  —  and  trembhng  a  little 
with  the  strain.  The  bottle  was  evidently  nearly 
empty. 

"  What  a  long  time  it  takes!"  thought  Pierre  —  it 
seemed  like  half-an-hour.  Dologhow  suddenly  threw 
himself  farther  back  and  his  arm  shook  more.  Sitting, 
as  he  was,  on  a  sloping  ledge,  this  tremulous  action  was 
enough  to  make  him  slip.  In  fact  he  seemed  to  slip, 
his  arm  and  head  shook  still  more;  he  instinctively 
raised  the  other  hand  to  clutch  the  woodwork,  but  he 
did  not  touch  it.  Pierre  shut  his  eyes  again,  vowing 
that  he  would  open  them  no  more;  but  a  general  stir  a 
moment  after  made  him  look  up,  and  he  saw  Dologhow 
standing  in  the  bay,  pale  but  triumphant. 

"  It  is  empty !"  And  he  flung  the  bottle  at  Stevens' 
who  caught  it  flying.  Dologhow  sprang  into  the  room; 
he  smelt  strongly  of  the  rum. 

"  Capital !  well  done !  That  is  something  like  a 
bet !"  they  all  shouted  at  once. 

The  Englishman  had  pulled  out  his  purse  and  was 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  53 

paying  the  bet  to  Dologhow  who  had  turned  silent  and 
sullen.     Pierre  rushed  to  the  window, 

"  Who  will  bet  that  I  do  not  do  the  same  thing," 
he  cried  —  "  or  even  without  a  bet  ?  Quick,  a  bottle, 
and  I  will  do  it." 

"  Pooh !"  said  Dologhow  with  a  smile. 

"Are  you  mad?  What  next!  You  are  not  to  do 
it — Do  you  hear?  You — who  turn  giddy  on  a  ladder?" 
said  several. 

"  I  will  do  it  —  make  haste,  a  bottle !"  cried  Pierre, 
thumping  on  the  table  with  drunken  vehemence,  and 
he  got  astride  on  the  window-sill.  One  of  his  com- 
panions seized  his  hands  but  Pierre  was  so  strong  that 
he  flung  him  off. 

"  No,  you  will  never  succeed  like  that,"  said  Ana- 
tole.  "  Stop,  I  will  manage  him.  —  Listen  to  me,  I  will 
take  the  bet,  but  not  till  to-morrow  —  Come  away  now, 
let  us  be  off." 

"  All  right,  let  us  be  off,  Michka  and  I  the  fore- 
most !"  He  put  his  arms  round  the  bear-cub  and  lifting 
it  off  the  ground  waltzed  round  the  room  with  it. 


CHAPTER   V. 

Prince  Basil  had  not  forgotten  his  promise  to  Prin- 
cess Droubetzkoi  the  evening  of  Mile.  Scherer's  party. 
The  request  had  been  preferred  to  the  emperor  and 


54  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

Boris  was  privileged  to  enter  the  Imperial  guard  as  sub- 
lieutenant in  Semenovsky's  regiment ;  but  in  spite  of  all 
his  mother's  efforts,  he  was  not  appointed  aide-de-camp 
to  Koutouzow.  Some  little  time  after,  the  princess 
returned  to  Moscow,  on  a  visit  to  her  rich  relations 
the  Rostows,  with  whom  she  often  stopped  and  where 
her  darling  Boris  had  spent  the  chief  part  of  his  child- 
hood. The  regiment  had  left  St.  Petersburg  on  the 
loth  of  August,  and  Boris,  who  was  detained  at  Mos- 
cow while  his  outfit  was  getting  ready,  was  to  join  at 
Radzivilow. 

It  was  a  high  day  at  the  Rostows'.  Both  mother 
and  daughter  were  named  Natalie  and  their  fete,  or 
name  day,  was  being  kept.  A  stream  of  carriages  had 
never  ceased  all  day  from  setting  down  a  crowd  of 
friends,  at  the  great  house  in  the  Povarskaia  street, 
eager  to  offer  compliments  and  congratulations.  The 
countess  and  her  eldest  daughter,  a  handsome  young 
girl,  were  receiving  them  in  the  drawing-room,  where 
fresh  arrivals  constantly  poured  in. 

The  co.untess  was  a  woman  of  about  five  and  forty, 
and  of  rather  an  Eastern  type,  with  a  thin  face  and  the 
weary  look  of  a  mother  of  twelve  children.  Her  delib- 
erate speech  and  movements,  which  were  the  result  of 
weak  health,  gave  her  a  certain  dignity  that  commanded 
respect.  With  her  was  the  Princess  Droubetzkoi,  who, 
as  one  of  the  family,  was  helping  to  receive  the  com- 
pany and  keep  up  the  talk. 

The  younger  members  of  the  family,  who  did  not 
care  for  this  business-like  reception,  were  in  the  other 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  55 

rooms.  The  count  went  forward  to  meet  his  friends, 
and  put  them  into  their  carriages  again ;  and  each  and 
all  he  begged  to  return  to  dinner. 

"  I  am  so  truly  obliged  to  you,  my  dear  friend," 
he  said  to  every  one,  high  or  low. 

"  Thank  you  so  much  for  my  dear  wife.  You  will 
be  sure  to  come  to  dinner?  I  shall  really  be  hurt  if  you 
fail.  Come  and  bring  all  the  family  ..."  He  repeated 
the  same  formula  to  all  alike,  with  exactly  the  same 
cordial  expression,  pressing  their  hands  and  bowing. 
After  seeing  off  those  who  were  departing  he  came 
back  to  those  who  had  not  yet  taken  their  leave,  pulled 
forward  a  chair  in  which  he  seated  himself  and  placing 
his  feet  squarely  before  him  and  his  hands  on  his  knees, 
he  rocked  from  side  to  side,  expressing  his  opinions  on 
the  weather,  on  health  and  events,  sometimes  in  Rus- 
sian and  sometimes  in  French,  though  he  spoke  it 
badly,  but  always  with  the  readiness  of  a  man  of  the 
world.  Tired  as  he  was  he  was  alert  to  bow  his  friends 
out,  like  a  man  determined  to  do  his  duty  to  the 
utmost,  and  repeated  his  invitations;  and  all  the  time 
he  smoothed  his  few  remaining  grey  hairs  over  his  bald 
skull.  Now  and  then,  on  his  way  back  to  the  drawing- 
room  he  crossed  the  hall  and  the  conservatory,  and 
went  into  a  large  room  with  plaster  walls  Avhere  tables 
were  being  laid  for  eighty  guests.  After  glancing  round 
at  the  servants  who  were  bringing  in  the  crockery  and 
plate  and  folding  the  damask  napkins,  he  would  call  a 
certain  Dmitri  Vassilievitch  —  a  man  of  good  family  — 
who  officiated  as  steward. 


56 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


"  I  say,  Mitenka,  try  and  have  every  thing  in  good 
order;  yes,  that  is  right,  that  is  right . . ."  And  looking 
with  immense  satisfaction  at  an  enormous  table  on  to 
which  a  piece  was  being  added,  he  said:  "The  wait- 
ing, that  is  the  chief  thing — the  waitmg,  you  under- 
stand .  .  .  .  "  and  he  went  gleefully  back  into  the  draw- 
ing-room. 

"  Marie  Luovna  Karaguine,"  announced  the  coun- 
tess' footman  in  a  deep  voice  as  he  threw  open  the 
door. 

"  Mercy,  I  am  dead !  Well,  this  is  the  last,  —  and 
she  is  so  full  of  airs !  —  Oh !  show  her  up,"  she  said 
wearily,  and  she  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  out  of  a  gold 
snuff-box  with  a  portrait  of  her  husband  painted  on  it. 

A  tall,  stout  woman  with  a  haughty  air,  followed  by 
a  round-faced  merry -looking  girl,  came  into  the  room, 
heralded  by  the  rustle  of  their  long  full  dresses. 

"  My  dear  Countess  ...  it  is  such  an  age  . .  .  she  has 
been  in  bed  poor  child  ...  at  the  Razoumosky's  ball,  and 
Countess  Apraxine's ...  I  enjoyed  it  so  much." 

These  fragmentary  plirases  were  drowned  in  the 
fuss  of  silk  trains  and  of  moving  chairs.  Then  the 
conversation  would  be  carried  on  with  more  or  less 
interest  till  a  pause  offered  an  opportunity  for  rising  to 
take  leave  when,  after  a  repetition  of:  "I  am  de- 
lighted . . .  my  mother's  health. . .  Countess  Aj^n^xine  . . ." 
etc.,  etc.,  the  ladies  would  make  their  way  back  to  the 
anteroom,  put  on  pelisses  and  cloaks  and  take  their 
departure. 

The  illness  of  old  Count  Besoukhow,  one  of  the 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  57 

handsomest  men  at  the  court  of  Catharine,  was  the 
chief  subject  of  interest  and,  of  course,  of  conversation, 
and  even  his  natural  son  Pierre  —  the  same  who  had 
blundered  through  the  evening  at  Mile.  Scherer's  —  was 
under  discussion. 

"  I  really  pity  the  poor  count,"  said  Mme.  Kara- 
guine.  "  His  health  is  wretched  and  to  have  a  son  who 
gives  him  so  much  anxiety." 

"  Why,  what  anxiety  can  he  give  him  ?"  said  the 
countess  pretending  ignorance,  though  she  had  heard 
it  at  least  fifteen  times. 

"  This  is  the  result  of  the  education  that  is  the 
fashion  now  a  days.  The  young  man  was  left  to  be 
his  own  master  when  he  was  abroad,  and  now  they  say 
he  does  such  things  at  St.  Petersburg  that  he  has  been 
ordered  out  of  the  city  by  the  police." 

"  Indeed  ?"  said  the  countess. 

"  He  got  into  bad  company,"  said  Princess  Drou- 
betzkoi,  "and  with  Prince  Basil's  son  and  a  fellow 
named  Dologhow,  he  has  been  playing  horrible  pranks. 
Dologhow  has  been  packed  off  to  the  army  and  Besouk- 
how's  son  has  been  sent  to  Moscow.  As  to  Anatole, 
his  father  has  managed  to  hush  up  the  affair;  however, 
he  has  been  desired  to  quit  the  capital." 

"  But  what  did  they  doP^asked  the  countess. 

"The)5{*are  perfect  brigands,  Dologhow  especially: 

and  he  is  Marie  Dologhow's  son  —  such  an  excellent 

woman  !    Would  you  believe  that  tlie  three  had  got  hold 

of  a  bear-cub,  I  do  not  know  where,  and  took  it  in  a 

cwriage  to  some  actress's  house.     The  police  tried  to 


58  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

arrest  them,  and  tlien,  what  did  they  take  into  their 
heads  ?  They  seized  the  poHce  officer,  and  after  tying 
him  on  the  bear's  back,  they  flung  them  into  the  Moika, 
the  bear  swimming  with  the  man  on  his  back." 

"  Oh,  my  dear,  what  a  fool  the.  man  must  have 
looked  !"  cried  the  count  rolling  with  laughter. 

"  But  it  is  horrible.  There  is  nothing  to  laugh  at," 
exclaimed  Mme.  Karaguine  though,  in  spite  of  herself, 
she,  too,  was  in  fits  of  laughing. 

"  They  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  rescuing  the 
poor  wretch  ....  and  to  think  that  a  son  of  Count  Be- 
soukhow's  should  find  any  amusement  in  such  mad 
tricks !  He  is  said  to  be  intelligent  and  well  educated, 
too ;  but  this  is  the  consequence  of  a  foreign  education. 
I  only  hope  no  one  will  receive  him  in  spite  of  his  fine 
fortune.  They  wanted  to  bring  him  to  my  house,  but 
I  decHned  the  honor — I  have  daughters." 

"  But  who  says  he  is  so  rich  ?"  asked  the  countess 
leaning  over  to  Mme.  Karaguine  and  turning  her  back 
on  the  young  ladies  who  immediately  pretended  not  to 
hear.  "  The  old  count  has  none  but  natural  children 
and  Pierre,  I  think,  is  one  of  them."  Mme.  Karaguine 
threw  up  her  hands. 

"There  are  a  score  of  them,  I  believe,"  she  said." 

"  Princess  Droubetzkoi,  burning  to  parade  her  inti- 
macy with  the  minutest  details  of  everybody's  life,  now 
threw  in  her  word,  saying  in  a  low  emphatic  tone : 

''The  truth  is  that  Besoukhow's  reputation  is  noto- 
rious—  he  has  so  many  that  he  has  lost  count  of  them; 
but  Pierre  is  his  favorite." 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  59. 

"  And  what  a  splendid  old  man  he  was,  no  longer 
ago  than  last  year,"  said  the  countess.  "He  was  the 
handsomest  man  I  ever  saw." 

"  Ah  !  he  is  very  much  altered  now.  By  the  way, 
I  was  going  to  tell  you  that  the  heir  at  law  to  all  his 
fortune  is  Prince  Basil,  through  his  wife;  but  the  old 
man  is  very  fond  of  Pierre ;  he  has  spent  a  great  deal 
on  his  education  and  has  written  to  the  emperor 
about  him.  No  one  has  the  slightest  idea  which 
of  them  will  come  in  for  the  money,  and  he  may  die 
at  any  moment.  Lorrain  has  also  come  from  St.  Peters- 
burg. The  count's  fortune  is  something  colossal  —  forty 
thousand  souls*  and  millions  of  roubles  in  the  funds, 
I  know  it  for  a  fact,  for  Prince  Basil  himself  told  me. — 
I  am  myself  distantly  connected  with  old  Besoukhow 
through  his  mother,  and  he  is  godfather  to  Boris,"  she 
added,  as  though  she  considered  these  facts  quite  un- 
important. "  Prince  Basil  arrived  in  Moscow  last 
evening." 

"  He  has  come  to  make  some  inspection  I  beheve." 

"  Oh !  but  that  is  a  mere  pretext,  between  our- 
selves," said  the  princess.  "  He  has  come  only  to  see 
Count  Cyril  Vladimirovitch,  because  he  heard  he  was 
dying." 

"  It  is  a  dehcious  story  all  the  same,"  said  the 
count,  who,  as  the  older  ladies  paid  no  heed  to  him, 
had  addressed  himself  to  the  girls.  "  How  funny  the 
man  must  have  looked !"    And  he  went  through  a  little 

*  Serfs  on  estates  were  at  that  time  property,  saleable  and  devi- 
sable with  tne  land. 


6o  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

performance  of  the  gestures  and  attitudes  of  the  poHce- 
officer,  chuckUng  in  his  deep  bass  —  the  noisy,  thick 
chuckle  of  a  man  who  loves  good  eating  and  drinking, 
and  more  particularly  drinking.  His  whole  burly  frame 
shook. 

"  You  will  come  back  and  dine  ?"  he  added  to  Mme. 
Karaguine. 

The  words  were  followed  by  a  silence ;  the  countess 
smiled  pleasantly  on  her  visitor,  making  no  conceal- 
ment of  her  satisfaction  at  seeing  her  rise  to  leave. 
The  daughter  glanced  enquiringly  at  her  mother,  and 
arranged  the  folds  of  her  skirt,  when  suddenly  there 
was  a  noise  as  of  several  persons  running  across  the 
adjoining  room ;  then  a  chair  was  upset,  and  imme- 
diately after  a  young  girl  of  thirteen  rushed  into  the 
room  holding  up  the  skirt  of  her  muslin  frock  in  which 
she  had  something  hidden.  She  stopped  short ;  it  was 
clear  that  in  her  headlong  flight  she  had  come  further 
than  she  had  intended.  She  was  instantly  followed  by 
a  college  student  with  a  purple  collar  to  his  coat,  a 
young  guardsman,  a  girl  of  about  fifteen,  and  a  little 
boy  in  a  round  frock  with  a  bright  rosy  face. 

The  count  rose  and  put  his  arms  round  the  first 
comer.  "  Ah  ha  !  Here  she  is  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  It  is 
her  fete,  too,  to-day;  my  dear,  it^is  her  fete." 

"  There  is  a  time  for  all  things,"  said  the  countess 
trying  to  seem  stern.     ''You  always  spoil  her,  Elie." 

"  How  do  you  do,  my  dear;  many  happy  returns  of 
the  day.  —  What  a  darling!"  said  Mme.  Karaguine 
turning  to  the  mother. 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  6l 

The  little  girl  with  her  black  eyes  and  a  wide  mouth, 
was  plain  rather  than  pretty,  but  to  make  up  for  it  she 
was  amazingly  full  of  life ;  her  shoulders  were  still 
throbbing  in  her  low  frock  from  her  breathless  run;  her 
black  curls,  all  in  disorder,  were  thrown  off  her  face ; 
her  bare  arms  were  brown  and  thin ;  she  still  wore  long 
trousers  trimmed  with  lace  and  had  low  shoes  on  her 
little  feet.  She  was  at  the  age,  in  short,  when  a  little 
girl  has  ceased  to  be  a  child  but  when  the  child  is  not 
yet  a  conscious  maiden.  She  slipped  away  from  her 
father  and  threw  herself  against  her  mother  without 
heeding  her  reproof;  then,  hiding  her  blushing  face  in 
the  lace  flounces  of  the  countess's  wrap,  she  went  into 
fits  of  laughter,  and  began  a  long,  incoherent  story 
about  her  doll,  which  she  took  out  of  the  skirt  of  her 
frock. 

"  You  see,  it  is  only  a  doll — it  is  Mimi,  you  see. .  .'* 
And  Natacha  leaning  on  her  mother's  knee  laughed  so 
infectiously  that  Mme.  Karaguine  could  not  lielp  laugh- 
ing, too. 

"  Come,  come ;  run  away  with  that  hideous  object," 
said  the  countess,  gently  pushing  her  away.  —  "  She  is 
my  youngest  girl,"  she  explained  to  her  visitor. 

Natacha,  looking  up  for  a  moment  from  her  mother's 
flounces,  glanced  at  the  stranger  through  tears  of  laugh- 
ter, and  then  hid  her  face  again.  Mme.  Karaguine, 
feeling  herself  bound  to  admire  this  family  scene,  tried 
to  take  part  in  it. 

"  Tell  me,  dear,"  she  said,  "  who  is  Mimi  ? —  Is  she 
your  little  girl  ?"     But  Natacha,  not  liking  her  conde- 


62  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

scending  tone,  turned  suddenly  grave,  and  only  looked 
at  her  without  speakmg. 

Meanwhile  the  younger  members  of  the  party  :  Boris 
—  the  young  officer,  the  Princess  Droubetzkoi's  Boris — 
Nicolas — the  student,  and  the  eldest  son  of  the  Rostows, 
Sonia — the  count's  niece,  a  girl  of  fifteen  —  and  Pe- 
troucha,  the  youngest  of  the  family,  had  collected  in  a 
group,  making  conspicuous  efforts  to  control  their  glee 
and  excitement  within  the  bounds  of  propriety.  Only 
to  look  at  them  plainly  showed  that  in  the  back  rooms, 
from  whence  they  had  so  rashly  appeared  on  the  scene, 
the  entertainment  had  been  of  a  more  lively  character 
than  here  in  the  drawing-room,  and  that  they  had 
talked  of  something  besides  the  gossip  of  the  town,  the 
weather,  and  Count  and  Countess  Apraxine.  They 
glanced  at  each  other  with  merry  meaning,  and  had  the 
greatest  difficulty  in  checking  their  impulse  to  laugh. 

The  two  lads,  who  had  been  companions  all  their 
life,  were  both  good-looking,  but  as  different  as  possi- 
ble. Boris  was  tall  and  fair,  with  regular,  placid  fea- 
tures. Nicolas  had  a  curly  head ;  he  was  short,  and  his 
expression  was  frank  and  simple.  His  upper  lip  showed 
the  dark  shade  of  an  infant  moustache.  Every  look 
and  gesture  was  eager  and  enthusiastic ;  he  had  colored 
crimson  when  he  found  himself  in  the  drawing-room 
and  could  not  find  a  word  to  say.  Boris,  on  the  other 
hand,  recovered  himself  at  once,  and  said  with  some 
humor  that  he  had  had  the  honor  of  Mile.  Mimi's 
acquaintance  some  five  years,  but  that  lately  she  had 
grown  very  old  and  was  undoubtedly  cracked  !     As  he 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  6^ 

spoke  he  stole  a  glance  at  Natacha  who  looked  at  her 
little  brother :  Petroucha,  with  his  eyes  almost  shut, 
stood  shaking  with  a  convulsion  of  noiseless  laughter, 
and  his  sister,  feeling  she  could  not  control  herself  any 
longer,  started  up  and  flew  out  of  the  room  as  fast  as 
her  little  feet  could  carry  her. 

Boris  did  not  stir :  "  Mamma,  do  not  you  want  the 
carriage  ordered  to  go  out  ?"  he  said  with  a  smile. 

"Yes,  go  and  order  it,"  said  his  mother.  And  he 
left  the  room  without  hurrying  himself,  to  follow 
Natacha,  while  the  little  boy,  vexed  at  their  desertion, 
trotted  off  after  them. 

Of  all  the  party  only  Nicolas  and  Sonia  remained, 
with  Mile.  Karaguine  and  the  Rostows'  eldest  daughter, 
who  was  four  years  older  than  Natacha  and  considered 
as  one  of  the  "  grown-ups." 

Sonia  was  a  sweet  little  brunette,  with  soft  eyes  and 
long  dark  lashes ;  the  olive  tint  of  her  complexion  was 
more  marked  round  her  throat  and  on  her  small,  slender 
hands,  and  a  thick  plait  of  black  hair  was  bound  twice 
round  her  head.  The  smooth  grace  of  her  movements, 
and  her  softness  and  roundness  generally,  with  a  rather 
shy  manner,  reminded  one  of  a  kitten  growing  up  into 
a  beautiful  cat.  She  smiled,  to  look  as  if  she  took  an 
interest  in  the  conversation  ;  but  her  eyes,  which,  under 
their  silky  lashes,  constantly  stole  a  glance  at  the 
^student  cousin  who  was  soon  to  be  off  to  his  regiment, 
so  frankly  expressed  the  adoring  admiration  peculiar  to 
very  young  girls,  that  her  smile  could  deceive  no  one. 
It  was  quite  evident  that  though  the  kitten  had  curled 


64  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

itself  up  for  a  moment  the  instant  she  was  out  of  the 
drawing-room  after  Boris  and  Natacha  she  would  jump 
and  play  again  with  this  charming  cousin: 

"Yes,  my  dear,"  said  the  count,  pointing  to  Nic- 
olas, "  his  friend  Boris  has  been  appointed  to  the  Guards 
and  he  insists  on  going  with  him  to  join  the  army- — 
he  will  desert  me,  and  leave  college,  and  be  a  soldier  — 
and  to  think  that  a  place  in  the  Archives  is  waiting  for 
him !     That  is  what  I  call  devoted." 

"And  war  is  declared  they  say." 

"They  said  so  long  since,  and  they  will  say  so 
again,  and  then  we  shall  hear  no  more  of  it. —  Yes,  my 
dear,  real  devotion,  if  I  know  what  friendship  means. 
He  is  going  into  the  Hussars." 

Mme.  Karaguine,  not  knowing  what  to  say,  nodded 
assent. 

"It  is  not  out  of  friendship  at  all!"  exclaimed  Nic- 
olas, turning  crimson  and  defending  himself  as  if  he 
were  accused  of  a  crime.  He  looked  at  his  cousin  and 
at  Mile.  Karaguine  who  both  seemed  to  approve. 

"  General  Pavlograd  is  to  dine  with  us  to-night ;  he 
is  here  on  leave  and  will  take  Nicolas  back  with  him. 
What  can  I  say  ?"  and  the  count  shrugged  his  shoulders 
and  tried  to  take  the  matter  lightly,  though  it  had  in 
fact  occasioned  him  no  small  pain. 

"  I  have  told  you,  Papa,  again  and  again,  that  if 
you  forbid  my  going,  I  will  stay.  But  I  cannot  be 
anything  but  a  soldier  I  know ;  for  a  diplomatist  or  an 
official  is  bound  to  conceal  his  opinions  and  feelings, 
and  I  do  not  know  how —  "  and  he  sent  a  killing  glance 


WAR    AND   PEACE.  65 

at  the  young  ladies,  while  the  httle  kitten  kept  her  eyes 
fixed  on  his  and  seemed  only  to  be  waiting  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  be  at  her  tricks  and  games. 

"Very  good,  very  good,"  said  the  count.  "He 
fires  up  at  once  !  Bonaparte  has  turned  all  their  heads, 
and  they  all  want  to  find  out  how,  fiom  being  a  lieu- 
tenant he  has  become  an  Emperor.  Well,  well.  I  wish 
them  good-luck,"  he  added  not  noticing  Mme.  Kara- 
guine's  scornful  smile. 

Then  they  began  to  talk  of  Napoleon,  and  Julie 
Karaguine  turned  to  Nicolas  Rostow : 

"I  am  sorry  you  were  not  at  the  Argharows'  on 
Thursday  —  I  was  so  dull  without  you,"  she  murmured 
softly. 

The  young  man,  greatly  flattered,  went  closer  to 
her,  and  they  carried  on  a  coquettish  dialogue  "  aside," 
he  entirely  forgetting  Sonia,  while  she,  poor  child,  scar- 
let and  quivering  with  jealousy,  tried  to  force  a  smile. 
In  the  middle  of  this  he  turned  to  look  at  her,  and 
Sonia,  flashing  a  look  of  love  and  anger  out  of  her  dark 
eyes,  walked  out  of  the  room,  with  difficulty  restraining 
her  tears. 

Nicolas  suddenly  ceased  his  lively  flirtation,  and 
availing  himself  of  the  first  favorable  interruption,  he 
went  off  in  search  of  her,  visibly  disturbed. 

"The  young  folks'  secrets  are  kept  in  a  glass  case," 
said  Princess  Droubetzkoi,  looking  after  them.  "Cousins 
are  danj^rous  neighbors." 

"Yes,"  s-aid  the  countess,  as  all  the  light  and  life  of 
the  party  finally  disappeared.     And  then  she  went  on 

V0I.  I.  <i 


66  WAR   AND   PEACE. 

answering  a  question  which  no  one  had  asked  her,  but 
whicli  was  ever  present  to  her  mind :  "  How  much 
anxiety,  how  much  suffering  we  go  through  before  hap- 
piness is  our  return!  ....  and  even  now  I  am  more 
fearful  than  happy.  It  is  the  most  perilous  age  for  girls 
as  well  as  boys  !" 

"Everything  depends  on  education." 

"You  are  quite  right,  I  have  always  been  the  friend 
of  my  children,  thank  God!"  said  the  countess  who, 
like  many  parents,  cherished  this  illusion,  and  believed 
she  knew  all  her  children's  secrets.  "My  daughters,  I 
know,  tell  me  everything;  and  if  Nicolas  commits  some 
follies  —  every  boy  must  more  or  less  —  at  any  rate  he 
will  not  behave  like  those  young  gentlemen  at  St. 
Petersburg." 

"They  are  dear  good  children,"  said  the  count, 
whose  way  of  settling  any  knotty  point  was  to  believe 
that  everything  was  perfect.  "What  is  to  be  done? 
He  insisted  on  being  a  soldier . .  .What  would  you  have, 
my  dear  ?" 

"  What  a  delightful  child  your  Natacha  is  ^  a  per- 
fect piece  of  quicksilver." 

"Yes,  she  is  just  like  me,"  said  tlie  count  innocently. 
"And  with  such  a  voice!  Though  she  is  my  own  child, 
I  must  say  it.  She  will  be  quite  first-rate,  a  second 
Salomoni!  She  is  taking  lessons  from  an  Itahan 
master." 

"But  is  it  not  too  soon  ?  At  her  ag**  it  might  spoil 
her  voice." 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  67 

"Why  should  it  be  too  soon  ?  Our  mothers  married 
at  twelve  or  thirteen." 

"And  do  you  know  she  is  desperately  in  love  with 
Boris.  What  do  you  think  of  that  ?"  said  the  countess 
with  a  meaning  smile  at  Anna  Mikliailovna.  Then  she 
went  on  again,  as  if  she  were  arguing  with  herself:  "If 
I  were  strict  with  her,  if  I  forbade  her  to  see  him,  God 
knows  what  might  come  of  it"  (she  meant  perhaps  that 
they  would  meet  and  kiss  in  secret)  "while,  as  it  is  I 
know  everything  they  say ;  she  comes  to  tell  me  every 
evening.  I  spoil  her  perhaps,  but  believe  me  it  is  the 
best  plan ;  my  eldest  daughter  was  very  strictly  brought 
up." 

"Yes,  indeed,  I  was  educated  quite  differently," 
said  Countess  Vera  smiUng.  But  her  smile  unluckily 
did  not  improve  her,  for  it  gave  her  face  an  unpleasant 
and  affected  expression.  Still  she  was  handsome,  fairly 
intelligent,  and  well  taught ;  her  voice  was  pleasant  and 
what  she  said  was  perfectly  true,  and  yet  it  made  her 
audience  look  from  one  to  another  in  awkward  surprise. 

"We  always  want  to  do  wonders  with  our  elder 
children,"  said  Mme.  Karaguine. 

"It  must  be  confessed,"  said  the  count,  "that  my 
wife  wanted  to  make  a  miracle  of  Vera — but  after  all, 
she  succeeded,"  he  added  with  an  approving  glance  at 
his.  daughter. 

Mme.  Karaguine  at  last  made  up  her  mind  to  de- 
part, promising  to  return  to  dinner. 

"What  a  goose!"  cried  the  countess,  after  seeing 
her  to  the  door.     "  I  thought  she  was  never  going." 

5  * 


68  WAR  AND    PEACE. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Natacha  had  paused  in  her  flight  at  the  door  of 
the  conservatory ;  there  she  waited  for  Boris,  keeping 
one  ear  open  to  catch  the  conversation  in  the  drawing- 
room.  At  last,  out  of  all  patience,  she  stamped  her 
foot  and  was  on  the  verge  of  tears,  when  she  heard  the 
young  man's  step  as  he  came  across  the  room  in  no 
sort  of  hurry.  She  had  just  time  to  hide  behind  the 
tubs  of  evergreens.  Boris,  having  entered  the  conser- 
vatory, looked  about  him,  and  flicking  some  dust  off 
the  sleeve  of  his  coat  he  went  to  a  mirror  to  contem- 
plate his  pretty  face. 

Natacha  watched  him  with  much  curiosity;  she  saw 
him  smile,  and  make  his  way  towards  the  opposite 
door.  She  thought  she  would  call  him, —  "  No,"  she 
said  to  herself,  "  let  him  look  for  me." 

He  had  hardly  disappeared  wlien  Sonia  with  flam- 
ing cheeks  and  streaming  eyes  rushed  into  the  conser- 
vatory. Natacha  was  on  the  point  of  springing  to 
meet  her,  but  the  delight  of  being  invisible  and  seeing 
others — just  like  a  fairy-tale  —  kept  her  quiet.  Sonia 
was  speaking  to  herself  in  a  low  tone  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  drawing-room  door.  In  a  minute  Nicolas 
followed  her. 

"  Sonia,  what  is  the  matter  ?  How  can  you  ?"  he 
began. 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  69 

"Nothing,  leave  me  alone!"  and  she  melted  into 
sobs. 

"No,  no  — I  know  what  it  is." 

"Well  then,  if  you  know,  so  much  the  better  for 
you.     You  had  better  go  back  to  her." 

"  Sonia,  one  word  !  How  can  you  torment  yourself 
and  torment  me  so  for  a  mere  whim,  a  fancy,"  he  said, 
taking  her  hand. 

Sonia  went  on  crying,  but  did  not  draw  her  hand 
away.  Natacha,  riveted  to  her  place,  held  her  breath; 
her  eyes  were  sparkling:  "What  is  going  to  happen?" 
she  wondered. 

"Sonia,  the  whole  world  is  nothing  to  me;  you  are 
everything,  and  I  will  prove  it  to  you." 

"  I  do  not  like  you  to  talk  to  .  .  .  ." 

"Well,  I  will  never  speak  to  her  again,  only  forgive 
me."     And  drawing  her  to  him,  he  kissed  her. 

"Ah!    well  done!"  said  Natacha  to  lierself. 

Nicolas  and  Sonia  went  away  ;  she  followed  them 
at  a  little  distance  to  the  door,  and  called  Boris. 

"Boris,  come  here,"  she  said  with  a  look  of  mys- 
terious importance.  "  I  have  something  to  say  to  you. 
Here — just  here."  And  she  led  him  to  her  hiding- 
place  among  the  flowers.  Boris  followed  her  smiling : 
"  What  have  you  to  say  to  me  ?" 

She  colored  and  looked  about  her  anxiously;  then, 
seeing  her  doll  which  was  lying  on  one  of  the  tubs  she 
snatched  it  up  and  held  it  out  to  him  :  "  Kiss  my  doll," 
she  said. 

Boris  looked  down  at  her  eager  little  face. 


70  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

"  You  will  not  ?  Then  come  this  way  .  .  .  ."  She 
dragged  him  into  a  thicker  clump  and  tossed  away  the 
doll.  "  Come  closer,  come  closer  .  .  ."  and  she  pulled 
his  coat;  then,  scarlet  with  excitement  and  on  the 
point  of  tears,  she  said  in  a  low  voice : 

"  Now,  will  you  kiss  me  ?" 

Boris  colored. 

"  What  a  strange  child  you  are !"  he  said  bending 
over  her,  but  undecided. 

With  one  spring  she  was  standing  on  the  edge  of 
one  of  the  tubs,  she  threw  her  little  bare  arms  round 
her  companion's  neck  and  tossing  back  her  hair  she 
kissed  his  Hps;  then  slipping  down  again  she  hastily 
escaped  and  stood  still  on  the  further  side  of  the  wooden 
tub,  her  head  hanging. 

"  Natacha,  I  love  you,  you  know  it,  but  .  .  .  ." 

"  Are  you  in  love  with  me  ?" 

"Yes,  I  am.  But  pray,  pray  do  not  do  that 
again. —  In  four  years  —  then  I  will  ask  to  marry 
you  .  .  ."     Natacha  stood  thinking. 

"  Thirteen,  fourteen,  fifteen,  sixteen,"  she  said  count- 
ing on  her  fingers.  "That  is  a  promise,"  and  her  face 
lighted  up  with  happy  confidence. 

"  Yes,  a  promise,"  said  Boris. 

"  For  ever  and  ever,  in  life  and  death,"  the  child 
went  on,  and  she  took  his  arm  and  led  him  into  the 
drawing-room,  quite  happy  and  satisfied. 

The  countess  was  tired ;  she  had  at  last  said  she 
could  see  no  one,  and  desired  the  servant  to  ask  any 
one  else  who  came  to  call  to  return  to  dinner.     She 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  7 1 

wanted  also  to  have  a  few  minutes  chat  with  Princess 
DroLibetzkoi,  who  had  only  lately  returned  from  St. 
Petersburg  and  who  had  been  her  friend  from  childhood. 

"  I  will  be  frank  Avith  you,"  the  princess  began, 
drawing  her  chair  closer  to  the  countess.  "  We  have 
so  few  old  friends  left  that  your  regard  is  doubly  dear 
to  me."  Then,  glancing  at  Vera,  she  was  silent.  The 
countess  pressed  her  hand. 

"Vera  you  might  understand  I  think,"  it  was  quite 
clear  that  she  was  not  fond  of  her  daughter.  "  Do  you 
not  see  that  you  are  not  wanted  here  ?  Go  and  join 
the  others." 

"If  you  had  told  me  sooner,  Mamma — "  replied 
the  handsome  Vera  with  a  scornful  accent,  but  not 
seeming  offended,  "  I  should  have  been  gone  by  this 
time." 

And  she  went  into  the  next  room.  There  she  dis- 
covered two  couples,  each  seated  in  one  of  the  windows, 
the  counterpart  of  each  other. 

She  paused,  looking  at  them  with  a  satirical  expres- 
sion. Nicolas,  sitting  by  Sonia,  was  writing  out  some 
verses,  his  first  attempt  at  composition.  Boris  and  Na- 
tacha  were  whispering  together,  but  were  silent  as  soon 
as  Vera  came  in.  The  two  little  girls  had  a  radiant 
and  conscious  look  that  betrayed  their  feelings ;  it  was 
both  pretty  and  comical.  But  Vera  did  not  see  that  it 
was  either  pretty  or  comical. 

"  How  often  have  I  desired  you  not  to  touch  any- 
thing of  mine  ?  You  have  a  room  to  yourselves,"  she 
said  and  she  took  the  inkstand  from  Nicolas. 


72 


WAR   AND   PEACE. 


"  One  minute — just  one  minute,"  said  Nicolas  dip- 
ping his  pen. 

"  You  always  do  the  wrong  thing. —  Just  now  you 
came  tearing  into  the  drawing-room  like  mad  creatures, 
starthng  and  upsetting  every  one." 

In  spite  —  or  perhaps  in  consequence  of  the  truth 
of  her  remark,  no  one  spoke  a  word,  but  the  four  guilty 
ones  looked  at  each  other.  Vera,  with  her  inkstand  in 
her  hand  did  not  go. 

"  And  what  secrets  can  you  have  at  your  age  ?  It 
is  ridiculous,  mere  silly  nonsense." 

*'But  what  does  it  matter  to  you,  Vera?"  said  Na- 
tacha  gently,  for  she  felt  altogether  more  amiable  than 
usual  and  on  her  best  behavior. 

"  It  is  monstrous,  and  I  blush  for  you !  What  are 
your  secrets  pray?" 

"Everyone  has  his  own,  and  we  leave  you  and 
Berg  in  peace,"  said  Natacha  hotly. 

^' There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  not,  we  never 
do  anything  we  are  ashamed  of.  But  as  for  you,  I  will 
tell  mamma  how  you  behave  to  Boris." 

"  Natalie  Ilinischnti  behaves  very  well  to  me,  I  have 
nothing  to  complain  of." 

"Be  quiet,  Boris,  you  are  a  perfect  '  Diplomate!'" 

This  word,  which  the  children  were  very  fond  of 
using,  was  to  them  full  of  peculiar  meaning. 

"This  is  intolerable!"  exclaimed  Natacha,  hurt  and 
offended,  "why  does  she  attack  me? —  You  will  never 
understand  for  you  never  loved  anyone  in  your  life. 
You  have  no  heart;  you  are  Madame  de  Genlis  ' — this 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  73 

■nickname,  which  Nicolas  had  found  for  Vera,  was  sup- 
posed to  be  particularly  abusive. — "Your  only  pleasure 
is  to  annoy  others.  You  can  flirt  with  Berg  as  much  as 
you  please." 

"Well,  at  any  rate  I  do  not  run  after  a  man  into  a 
room    full   of  company  .  .  .  ." 

"There,  you  have  done  what  you  wanted,"  cried 
Nicolas.  "You  have  upset  us  all  with  your  nonsense; 
now,  let  us  be  off;  we  will  go  into  the  school-room." 
And  they  all  four  made  their  escape  like  a  covey  of 
frightened  birds. 

"It  is  you,  on  the  contrary  who  have  been  talking 
nonsense,"  exclaimed  Vera,  while  outside  the  four  voices 
sang  merrily  in  chorus:  "Madame  de  Genlis,  Madame 
de  Genlis!" 

Vera,  paying  no  heed,  went  to  the  glass  to  arrange 
her  sash  and  her  hair,  and  the  sight  of  her  own  pretty 
face  restored  her  equanimity. 

In  the  drawing-room  the  two  friends  had  been 
discussing  their  most  private  affairs. 

"  Ah  !  my  dear !"  said  tlie  countess,  "  everything  is 
not  rose-colored  in  a  life  like  mine.  I  see  quite  plainly 
that  if  we  go  on  at  this  rate  our  money  will  not  last 
much  longer.  It  will  all  melt  through  our  fingers.  And 
whose  fault  is  it  ?  It  is  his  liberality  — and  his  club. — 
Even  in  the  country  we  have  no  peace :  entertainments, 
hunting,  shooting,  what  not !  But  what  is  the  use  of 
talking  ?  — Tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing.  Really, 
I  admire  your  energy;  how  you  can  go  posting  about 
at  your  time  of  life  !     Moscow  —  St.  Petersburg  —  this 


74  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

minister — that  big-wig!  And  you  manage  and  persuade 
everybody!  How  in  the  world  do  you  do  it?  It  is 
marvellous  and  I  cannot  understand  it." 

"  On  !  my  dear  friend,  may  Heaven  preserve  you 
from  ever  knowing  what  it  is  to  be  a  widow  and  alone 
with  a  son  you  adore.  One  puts  up  with  anything  for 
his  sake.  My  lawsuit  has  been  a  hard  school !  — When 
I  wanted  to  see  some  great' man  I  first  wrote  to  him; 
then  I  went  myself,  in  a  hired  carriage,  once,  twice,  four 
times,  as  often  as  was  necessary,  till  I  had  got  what  I 
wanted,  and  I  did  not  care  in  the  least  what  they 
thought  of  me." 

"  And  who  did  you  apply  to  about  Boris,  for  after  all, 
here  he  is  an  officer  in  the  Imperial  guard  while  Nicolas 
is  no  more  than  a  "  Junker."  No  one  took  any  trouble 
about  him.    To  whom  did  you  go  ?" 

"To  Prince  Basil,  and  he  was  most  kind.  He 
promised  at  once  to  speak  to  the  emperor,"  she  added 
eagerly,  forgetting  the  snubbing  she  had  received. 

"  And  is  Prince  Basil  much  older  ?  I  have  not  seen 
him  since  the  days  of  the  theatricals  at  the  Roumiant- 
zows';  he  has  probably  forgotten  me,  though  in  those 
days  he  made  himself  very  agreeable  to  me !" 

"  He  is  just  the  same  as  ever,  polite  and  courtly ;  his 
grandeur  has  not  turned  his  head.  '  I  am  only  sorry,  my 
dear  Princess,'  he  said,  'that  it  should  cost  me  so  little 
trouble;  you  have  only  to  command.* —  He  really  is  a 
kind  man  and  a  worthy  relation.  You  know,  Natalie, 
how  devoted  I  am  to  my  boy;  there  is  nothing  I  would 
not  do  to  secure  his  happiness.     But   my  situation   is 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


75 


really  a  cruel  one,  a  most  painful  one;  and  it  gets 
worse  and  worse,"  she  went  on,  lowering  lier  voice. 
"  That  miserable  lawsuit  makes  no  progress,  and  is 
ruining  me.  I  have  not  ten  kopeks  in  my  pocket,  and 
I  assure  you  I  do  not  know  how  I  am  going  to  get 
Boris  his  outfit."  She  drew  out  her  handkerchief  and 
began  to  weep.  I  shall  want  five  hundred  roubles  and 
I  have  only  a  note  for  twenty-five  roubles  in  the  world. 
I  am  in  the  most  miserable  straits;  my  only  hope  is  in 
Count  Besoukhow.  If  he  will  not  come  forward  to  help 
his  godson  all  my  pains  will  be  lost." 

The  countess's  eyes  were  sympathetically  moist  and 
she  seemed  lost  in  meditation. 

"  I  often  think  of  Count  Besoukhow  and  his  lonely 
existence,"  the  princess  went  on,  "  and  of  his  enormous 
fortune,  and  I  cannot  help  wondering  —  it  is  a  sin 
perhaps — why  he  is  allowed  to  live  on  ?  '  Life  is  a 
burthen  to  him  while  Boris  is  young.  .  .  ." 

"  He  will  be  sure  to  leave  him  something,"  said  the 
countess. 

"  I  doubt  it,  my  dear ;  these  enormously  rich  men 
are  so  egoistical.  However,  I  mean  to  go  there  and  to 
explain  to  the  count  how  matters  stand.  It  is  now  two," 
she  said,  rising,  "  and  you  dine  at  four  —  I  shall  have 
plenty  of  time." 

The  princess  sent  for  her  son  :  "  Then  we  meet  again 
presently.     Wish  me  good-luck." 

'•  You  are  going  to  see  Count  Cyril  Vladimirovitch?" 
cried  the  count  coming  out  of  the  dining-room.  "  If  he 
is  better  ask  Pierre  to  come  to  dinner;  he  used  to  be 


y6  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

here  often,  and  dance  with  the  children.  Make  him 
promise  to  come.  We  shall  see  if  Tarass  does  himself 
credit;  he  assures  me  that  Count  Orlow  never  gave 
such  a  dinner  as  he  has  had  prepared  for  this  evening." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

"  My  dear  Boris,"  said  the  princess,  as  the  carriage 
that  the  countess  had  placed  at  her  disposal  rolled  over 
the  straw-covered  street  and  into  the  court-yard  of 
Count  Besoukhow's  house :  "  My  dear  Boris,"  she  re- 
peated, and  she  put  out  her  hand  from  under  her  shabby 
cloak,  and  laid  it  with  a  shy  caress  on  her  son's,  "  be 
amiable  and  judicious.  He  is  your  godfather  and  your 
future  prospects  depend  on  him,  do  not  forget  that.  Be 
nice,  as  you  can  be  when  you  like." 

"  I  should  have  been  glad,  I  must  own,  to  feel  sure 
that  I  should  get  anything  out  of  it  but  humiliation," 
he  said  coldly.  "  However,  I  promised  you  and  I  will 
do  it  for  your  sake." 

The  princess  refused  to  be  announced  by  their  own 
servant  She  and  her  son  went  into  the  entrance-hall 
where  two  rows  of  statues  stood  in  the  niches.  The 
porter  eyed  the  mother  and  son  from  head  to  foot, 
taking  note  of  tlie  lady's  threadbare  mantle ;  then  he 
asked  if  their  call  was  for  the  count  or  for  the  young 
princesses.     "  For  the  count,"  and  he  assured  them  — 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  77 

though  a  long  line  of  carriages  gave  his  words  the  lie — 
that  his  excellency  saw  no  one,  he  was  much  too  ill. 

"  Then  we  may  as  well  go,"  said  Boris  in  French. 

"  My  dear,"  said  his  mother  lightly  touching  his 
arm,  as  if  her  touch  had  a  magic  power  to  excite  or 
soothe  him.  Boris  said  no  more  and  his  mother  went 
on  in  a  plaintive  tone  to  the  man-servant :  "  I  know 
that  the  count  is  very  ill  and  that  is  why  I  came  to  call; 
I  am  a  relation  of  his  —  but  I  will  not  disturb  him ;  I 
only  want  to  see  Prince  Basil ;  he  is  here  I  know,  pray 
have  the  goodness  to  send  my  name  up." 

The  porter  angrily  pulled  the  bell. 

"  Princess  Droubetzkoi,  for  Prince  Basil,"  he  called 
up  to  the  footman  who  put  his  head  over  the  stair-rail. 

The  princess  shook  out  the  folds  of  her  dyed  silk 
gown,  looking  at  herself  as  she  passed  in  a  large  Vene- 
tian mirror  that  was  framed  into  the  wall,  and  boldly 
set  her  shabby  shoe  on  the  carpeted  steps. 

"  You  have  promised,  remember,"  she  said  lightly 
stroking  her  son's  hand  to  encourage  him. 

Boris  followed  her  calmly  with  downcast  eyes,  and 
they  were  ushered  into  a  room  through  which  they 
must  pass  to  that  of  Prince  Ba^il.  An  elderly  man- 
servant rose  to  meet  them,  and  they  were  on  the  point 
of  repeating  their  wishes,  when  one  of  several  doors 
was  opened,  and  Prince  Basil  came  out  in  a  loose 
velvet  coat  trimmed  with  fur  and  with  only  one  order, 
which,  in  him,  was  a  sign  of  a  hasty  toilet.  He  was 
showing  out  a  handsome  young  man  with  very  black 
hair. 


78  WAR   AND   PEACE. 

"It  is  final  then?"  he  said. 

'•'Errare  humamim  est,  Prince,"  replied  Dr.  Lorrain, 
pronouncing  the  Latin  with  a  strong  French  accent. 

"Thank  you,  thank  you,"  said  Prince  Basil,  who, 
having  caught  sight  of  the  princess  and  her  son,  dis- 
missed the  physician  with  a  bow.  He  then  came  for- 
ward to  meet  them  with  a  look  of  enquiry.  Boris  saw 
his  mother's  face  put  on  an  expression  of  deep  regret 
and  he  turned  away  to  hide  a  smile. 

"We  meet  again  under  very  sad  circumstances,"  she 
began,  ignoring  the  cold  and  offensive  eye  that  the 
prince  fixed  upon  her.     "  How  is  our  dear  invalid  ?" 

Prince  Basil  looked  at  her  and  at  Boris  in  silence, 
not  attempting  to  conceal  his  astonishment  at  their 
presence  there;  without  even  returning  Boris'  bow  he 
answered  her  enquiry  with  a  twist  of  his  lips  and  a 
shake  of  his  head,  conveying  that  there  was  no  hope 
for  the  count. 

"  It  is  true  then !"  she  exclaimed.  "  Oh !  it  is  terrible, 
terrible  to  think  of! —  This  is  my  son,"  she  added,  "he 
was  anxious  to  thank  you  in  person."  Boris  bowed 
again.  "  Believe  me.  Prince,  a  mother's  heart  can  never 
forget  all  you  have  done  for  her  son." 

"  I  am  very  glad,  Anna  Mikhailovna,  to  have  been 
able  to  oblige  you,"  said  the  prince,  twitching  his  shirt 
frill.  But  his  tone  and  manner  were  far  more  patron- 
izing than  at  the  soiree  at  Mile.  Scherer's.  "  Do  your 
duty  to  the  best  of  your  ability  and  try  to  prove  your- 
self deserving.  I  am  deligiited  —  charmed  —  are  you 
on  leave?"     All  with  an  air  of  absolute  indifference. 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  79 

*'I  am  waiting  for  orders,  your  Excellency,  before 
joining  my  regiment,"  said  Boris,  without  betraying  the 
smallest  annoyance  at  his  dry  tone  or  any  wish  to  carry 
on  the  conversation.  The  prince  was  struck  by  his 
quiet  reticence  and  looked  at  him  with  more  attention. 

"  Do  you  live  with  your  mother?" 

'•I  live  with  Countess  Rostow,  your  Excellency." 

"With  Elie  Rostow  whose  wife  was  Natalie  Schin- 
chine,"  explained  Anna  Mikhailovna. 

"I  know,  I  know,"  said  the  prince  with  cold  mo- 
notony. "I  never  could  understand  Natalie.  How  she 
could  marry  that  unlicked  cub!  A  dull,  absurd  crea- 
ture, and  a  gambler,  they  say,  into  the  bargain." 

"Yes,  but  a  very  kind  soul.  Prince,"  said  the  prin- 
cess with  a  smile  expressing  her  concurrence  in  his 
opinion,  though  she  defended  the  poor  count.  "And 
what  do  the  doctors  say?"  she  went  on,  once  more  as- 
suming a  look  of  deep  dejection. 

"There  is  very  little  hope." 

"  I  should  so  much  have  liked  to  see  him  once  more, 
to  thank  him  for  all  his  kindness  to  Boris.  Boris  is  his 
godson,"  she  added  with  consequential  emphasis,  as 
though  the  fact  must  impress  Prince  Basil.  But  the 
prince  said  nothing  and  scowled.  She,  understanding 
at  once  that  he  thought  of  her  as  a  dangerous  compet- 
itor for  the  inheritance,  hastened  to  reassure  him. 

"  But  for  my  sincere  affection  and  devotion  to  my 

uncle — "  and  she  let  the  words  *my  micle'  drop  with 

'  a   sort   of    careless    effrontery  —  "I    know    his   noble 

nature. —  And  he  has  no  one  with  him  but  his  nieces; 


8o  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

they  are  very  young. — "  Then,  looking  down,  she 
went  on:  "Has  he  fulfilled  his  religious  duties  ?  Every 
moment  is  precious.  He  cannot  be  worse,  and  it  is  in- 
dispensable that  he  should  be  prepared.  We  women," 
and  she  smiled  sweetly,  "can  always  manage  these 
things  best.  I  really  must  see  him,  painful  as  such  an 
interview  must  be  to  me; — but  I  am  accustomed  to 
sorrow." 

Prince  Basil  saw,  as  he  had  seen  that  evening  at 
Mile.  Scherer's,  that  there  would  be  no  getting  rid  of 
the  lady. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  would  do  him  harm,  my  dear  Prin- 
cess," he  said.  "Wait  till  the  evening  at  any  rate,  the 
doctors  think  there  may  be  a  crisis." 

"Wait!  but  his  hours  are  numbered.  His  salvation 
hangs  in  the  balance.  The  last  duties  of  a  Christian 
soul  are  a  terrible  ordeal." 

At  this  moment  a  door,  leading  into  another  suite 
of  rooms,  opened  and  one  of  the  princesses  made  her 
appearance.  She  had  a  crabbed,  hard  face  and  an  en- 
ormously long  waist,  out  of  all  proportion  to  the  rest  of 
her  person. 

"Well,  how  is  he  ?"  asked  Prince  Basil. 

"Just  the  same  —  and  how  can  he  be  otherwise 
with  all  this  noise  ?"  said  the  lady,  staring  at  Anna  Mik- 
hailovna  as  though  she  were  a  stranger. 

"Ah!  my  dear,  I  did  not  recognize  you,"  exclaimed 
Princess  Droubetzkoi  going  forward.  "I  have  only 
just  come  from  St.  Petersburg  and  I  came  at  once  to 
help  you  to  nurse  my  uncle.     What  you  must  have  gone 


WAR    AND   PEACE.  -     8 1 

through  !"  and  she  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven.  The 
young  princess  turned  on  her  heel  and  left  the  room 
without  a  word. 

Anna  Mikhailovna  drew  off  her  gloves  and  settling 
herself  in  an  arm-chair  as  though  she  had  captured 
a  retrenchment,  she  signed  to  the  prince  to  sit  down  by 
her. 

*'  Boris,  I  will  go  in  to  see  the  count  —  my  uncle ; 
you  can  pay  a  call  on  Pierre  and  give  him  the  Rostows' 
invitation.  They  want  him  to  dine  there  you  know. — 
But  1  suppose  he  will  not  go,"  she  added  turning  to 
Prince  Basil. 

"Why  not?"  said  the  prince  evidently  much  an- 
noyed. "  I  shall  be  only  too  glad  to  get  rid  of  him. 
He  has  made  himself  at  home  here  and  the  count  has 
not  once  asked  for  him." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  rang  the  bell.  A 
footman  came  in  and  was  desired  to  take  Boris  to  see 
Pierre  Kirilovitch  through  another  part  of  the  house. 

It  was  so :  Pierre  had  not  had  time  to  decide  on 
what  he  would  do  when  he  had  been  warned  to  leave 
St.  Petersburg,  in  consequence  of  his  disorderly  ab- 
surdities. The  story  as  told  at  the  Rostows'  was  accu- 
rate: he  and  his  maclcap  associates  had  tied  the  police 
officer  on  to  the  bear's  back.  He  had  now  been  in 
Moscow,  for  some  days,  and  had  put  up,  as  usual,  at 
his  father's  house.  Of  course,  he  understood  that  the 
story  of  his  adventure  would  be  known,  and  expected 
the  womankind  of  the  house,  who  were  always  inimical, 
to  be  more  than  ever  hostile.    He  nevertheless  went  up 

F#/.  /.  6 


Sz  WAR  AND    PEACE. 

the  first  day  to  his  father's  room,  pausing  on  his  way  to 
pay  his  respects  to  the  three  princesses.  Two  of  them 
were  doing  needle-work  at  a  large  frame,  while  the 
third,  the  eldest,  read  aloud.  Her  appearance  was  se- 
verely neat  with  her  odd-looking  long  waist ;  the  two 
younger  ones  were  both  very  pretty  and  wonderfully 
alike,  excepting  that  one  of  them  had  a  mole  just  above 
her  lip  which  was  thought  particularly  bewitching. 

Pierre  was  received  like  a  leper.  The  eldest  ceased 
reading  and  looked  at  him  with  horror  and  amazement; 
the  second  —  the  one  who  had  not  a  mole  over  her  lip  — 
did  the  same;  the  third,  who  had  some  sense  of  fun, 
bent  over  her  work  to  hide  a  smile  at  the  scene  which 
she  foresaw  was  about  to  take  place.  She  stuck  her 
needle  into  the  canvas  and  pretended  to  be  studying  the 
pattern  while  she  was  smothering  a  fit  of  laughter. 

"  Good-morning,  Cousin,"  said  Pierre:  "  You  do  not 
seem  to  know  me." 

"  I  know  you  only  too  well  —  too  well !" 

"  How  is  the  count  ?  Can  I  see  him  ?"  asked  Pierre 
with  his  usual  abruptness  but  not  in  the  least  discom- 
posed. 

"  The  count  is  suffering  both  in  mind  and  body, 
and  you  have  taken  care  to  add  to  his  mental 
trouble." 

"  Can  I  see  him  ?"  repeated  Pierre. 

"  Oh !  if  you  want  to  kill  him — to  kill  him  outright, 
of  course  you  can.  —  Olga,  go  and  see  if  my  uncle's 
broth  is  ready  —  it  is  time,"  she  added  to  show  Pierre 
that  they  had  no  thought  but  for  their  uncle,  while  he 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  S^ 

evidently  was  only  bent  on  displeasing  him.  Olga  left 
the  room,  Pierre  waited  a  minute  and  then,  looking 
keenly  at  the  two  sisters,  he  said  with  %bow : 

"  If  that  is  the  case  I  will  go  back  to  my  own 
rooms  and  you  will  let  me  know  when  I  can  see 
him." 

He  went  away,  the  youngest  princess  laughing 
loudly  as  he  retreated. 

Next  day  Prince  Basil  arrived  and  took  up  his 
quarters  in  the  house.     He  sent  for  Pierre. 

**  My  good  fellow,"  he  said,  "  if  you  go  on  here  as 
you  have  been  doing  at  St.  Petersburg  you  will  get  into 
worse  trouble ;  that  is  all  I  have  to  say  to  you.  The 
count  is  dangerously  ill ;  there  is  no  use  in  your  seeing 
him." 

From  that  moment  Pierre  was  forgotten,  and  spent 
his  days  in  solitude  in  his  rooms  on  the  second  floor. 

When  Boris  went  in  Pierre  was  pacing  his  room, 
which  was  spacious,  stopping  at  the  corners  and  shak- 
ing his  fist  at  the  walls  as  if  he  longed  to  run  a  sword 
through  some  invisible  enemy,  flashing  wrathful  glances 
over  his  spectacles,  and  then  walking  on  again,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders,  flourishing  his  arms  and  haranguing 
to  himself. 

"  England's  day  is  over !"  he  said,  frowning  sternly 
and  pointing  his  finger  at  some  imaginary  auditor.  *'  M. 
Pitt  —  a  traitor  to  his  country  and  to  the  rights  of  man, 
is  condemned  to.  .  .  ." 

But  he  had  not  time  to  utter  the  verdict  pronounced 
by  Napoleon,  whom  he  was  representing;  he  had  only 


84  WAR  AND    PEACE. 

crossed  the  channel  and  taken  London  by  storm  when 
a  handsome  and  well-dressed  young  officer  came  into 
the  room.  He  stopped  short.  Boris  was  but  fourteen 
when  Pierre  had  seen  him  last,  and  he  did  not  recog- 
nize him ;  prompted,  however,  by  his  friendly  instincts 
he  held  out  his  hand  with  a  pleasant  smile. 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  me  ?"  said  Boris,  answer- 
ing the  smile.  "  I  came  with  my  mother  to  see  the 
count,  but  they  say  he  is  too  ill." 

"  Yes,  so  they  say ;  but  they  do  not  give  him  a 
minute's  peace,"  said  Pierre,  wondering  who  his  visitor 
might  be. 

Boris  saw  that  he  did  not  know  him  but  he  thought 
it  unnecessary  to  enlighten  him,  not  feeling  in  the  least 
awkward  himself,  and  he  looked  him  full  in  the  face. 

"  Count  Rostow  begs  you  will  dine  with  him  to-day," 
he  said  after  a  long  silence  which  Pierre  was  beginning 
to  find  very  uncomfortable. 

"  Ah !  Count  Rostow !"  exclaimed  Pierre  joyfully. 
"  Then  you  are  his  son  Elie !  Would  you  believe  that 
I  did  not  know  you  again.  Do  you  remember  our 
walks  together,  with  Mme.  Jacquot,  ages  ago  ?" 

*'  You  are  under  a  mistake,"  said  Boris  deliberately, 
with  a  cool,  satirical  smile.  "  I  am  Boris,  the  Princess 
Droubetzkoi's  son.  Count  Rostow's  name  is  Elie,  but 
his  son's  name  is  Nicolas,  and  I  never  saw  Mme. 
Jacquot." 

Pierre  shook  his  head  and  waved  his  hands,  as  if  he 
were  waving  off  a  swarm  of  gnats  or  bees. 

"  Good  heavens !     Is   it  possible  ?     I    must  have 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  8$ 

mixed  it  all  up.  I  have  so  many  relations  in  Moscow. — 
You  are  Boris  —  to  be  sure  .  .  .  now  I  know  all  about 
it.  —  Well,  and  what  do  you  think  of  Napoleon's  ex- 
pedition to  Boulogne  ?  The  English  will  have  their 
hands  full  if  Napoleon  can  only  cross  the  Straits.  I 
think  it  quite  possible,  if  only  Villeneuve  is  to  be 
depended  on." 

Boris,  who  never  read  the  papers,  knew  nothing 
about  the  expedition,  and  had  never  before  heard  the 
name  of  Villeneuve. 

"  Here,  at  Moscow,  dinners  and  gossip  occupy  our 
minds  more  than  politics,"  he  replied  with  his  ironical 
smile.  "  I  know  nothing  whatever  about  them,  and  I 
never  think.  You  and  the  count  are  the  only  subjects 
of  conversation." 

Pierre's  face  lighted  up  with  his  frank,  kind  smile ; 
though  he  seemed  to  fear  lest  his  visitor  should  say 
something  injudicious  or  unpleasant;  but  Boris  spoke 
coolly  and  drily  and  kept  his  eyes  fixed  on  Pierre. 

"  Moscow  has  nothing  else  to  think  about,"  he  went 
on.  "  Every  one  wonders  who  will  be  the  count's  heir; 
and  who  knows  whether  he  will  not  live  to  bury  us  all  ? 
I  am  sure  I  wish  he  may  with  all  my  heart." 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  sad,  very  sad  indeed,"  stammered 
Pierre,  still  feeling  that  the  subject  was  an  awkward  one. 

"  And  you,  of  course,  must  think,"  Boris  said,  color- 
ing a  little,  but  not  losing  his  self-possession,  "  that  all 
alike  are  hoping  for  a  handful  of  gold  from  the  million- 
aire. ..." 

"  Now  for  it,"  thought  Pierre. 


86  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

"  And  I  am  most  anxious  to  explain  to  you,  that  we 
may  perfectly  understand  each  other,  that  you  would  be 
quite  mistaken  if  you  included  my  mother  and  me 
among  the  number.  Your  father  is  very  rich  and  we  are 
very  poor;  for  that  very  reason  I  have  never  thought 
of  him  as  a  relation.  Neither  my  mother  nor  I  will  ever 
ask  or  accept  anything  from  the  count." 

Pierre  did  not  immediately  take  this  in ;  but  sud- 
denly seizing  Boris  eagerly  and  clumsily  by  the  hand, 
while  he  blushed  with  confusion,  he  began  : 

"  Is  it  possible  !"  "  Can  it  be  supposed  that  I  .  .  . 
or  that  anyone.  .  .  .?  " 

"  I  am  glad  I  told  you;  you  must  excuse  me,"  said 
Boris  in  a  soothing  tone.  "  I  did  not  mean  to  offend 
you.  I  make  it  my  principle  to  be  perfectly  frank.  — 
But  what  answer  am  I  to  take?  Will  you  come  to 
dinner  ?" 

And  Boris  having  thus  shifted  the  onus  and  burthen 
of  a  false  position  on  to  the  shoulders  of  another  per- 
son could  be  as  charming  as  usual. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Pierre,  calming  down,  "  that 
you  ar«  a  wonderful  man.  You  have  just  done  a  very 
noble  thing.  You  do  not  know  me  —  how  should  you  ? 
We  have  not  met  since  we  were  children  —  and  of 
course  you  might  have  supposed  ...  I  understand  per- 
fectly ;  but  I  should  never  have  done  it,  I  should  not 
have  had  the  courage  ...  it  is  really  admirable.  I  am 
dehghted  to  have  made  your  acquaintance.  —  It  is 
very  odd,"  he  went  on  after  a  short  silence,  "  you  really 
thought  that  I  .  .  ."  and  he  began  to  laugh.     "  But  we 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  87 

shall  know  each  other  better,  I  hope  and  beg,"  and  he 
grasped  his  hand.  "  Do  you  know  I  have  not  seen  the 
count ;  he  has  not  asked  for  me — it  pains  me,  as  a  man — 
but  there  is  nothing  to  be  done.  —  And  do  you  really 
think  that  Napoleon  will  have  time  to  get  all  his  army 
across  ?" 

And  Pierre  went  on  enlarging  on  the  advantages 
and  the  difficulties  of  the  Boulogne  expedition.  He  was 
still  in  the  middle  of  the  subject  when  a  servant  came 
to  tell  Boris  that  his  mother  was  going ;  Boris  took  leave 
of  Pierre  who  shook  hands  warmly  and  promised  to  dine 
with  the  Rostows. 

When  Boris  was  gone  he  continued  his  walk  round 
his  room,  but  he  no  longer  sparred  with  spectral  foes. 
He  smiled  with  the  sense  of  a  sudden  warm  affection 
for  this  intelligent  and  sympathetic  new  friend  —  the 
result  no  doubt  of  his  own  isolation  —  and  quite  made 
up  his  mind  to  improve  the  acquaintance. 

Prince  Basil  accompanied  the  princess  to  her  car- 
riage ',  she  came  down  weeping,  her  face  hidden  in  her 
handkerchief. 

"  It  is  frightful,  quite  frightful,"  she  murmured. 
"  But  I  will  do  my  duty  to  the  end.  I  will  come  back 
and  sit  with  him;  he  cannot  be  left  in  this  state;  every 
minute  is  precious.  I  do  not  know  what  his  nieces  are 
waiting  for.  God  willing,  I  may  perhaps  find  an  oppor- 
tunity for  preparing  him.  —  Good-bye,  Prince,  and  may 
God  support  and  comfort  you." 

"  Good-bye,  my  dear,"  said  Prince  Basil  indiffer- 
ently. 


88  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

"  Oh  !  he  is  in  a  terrible  state,"  said  the  mother  to 
her  son  as  soon  as  they  were  in  the  carriage,  "  he  knows 
no  one." 

"  I  cannot  find  out  anything  about  his  position  with 
regard  to  Pierre." 

"  His  will  will  explain  everything,  and  our  fate,  too, 
will  depend  upon  it,"  said  the  princess. 

"  But  what  makes  you  think  that  he  will  leave  us 
anything  ?" 

"  Oh  !  my  dear,  he  is  so  rich  and  we  are  so  poor  !" 

"  That  does  not  seem  to  me  a  sufficient  reason,  I 
must  confess,  Mamma.  .  .  ." 

''Good  God!  How  ill  he  is!"  exclaimed  his 
mother. 


When  Anna  Mikhailovna  and  her  son  had  set  out  to 
pay  their  visit,  they  had  left  the  countess  alone,  lost  in 
thought,  and  now  and  then  wiping  away  a  tear.  At  last 
she  rang  the  bell. 

The  maid  was  long  in  answering  the  summons.  Her 
mistress's  nerves  were  all  on  edge;  her  friend's  anxie- 
ties and  squalid  poverty  had  quite  upset  her  and  she 
was  very  cross. 

"  It  strikes  me,"  she  said  to  the  girl,  "  that  you  do 
not  choose  to  do  your  work; — just  as  you  please.  I 
can  find  another  place  for  you."  The  girl  apologized 
penitently.  "  Well  go  and  beg  the  count  to  come  to 
me." 


WAR  AND    PEACE.  89 

The  count  immediately  obeyed;  he  waddled  into 
the  room  and  came  shyly  up  to  his  wife. 

"  Ah  ha !  Petite  Comtesse,''  he  said,  "what  a  dish  of 
partridges  with  Madeira  we  are  going  to  have !  I  know 
—  I  have  tasted  it,  my  dear.  —  Well  I  have  paid  Tarass 
a  thousand  roubles ;  and  he  is  well  worth  it." 

He  sat  down  by  her,  passing  one  hand  through  his 
hair  and  laying  the  other  on  his  knee  with  an  air  of 
triumph.     "  And  what  do  you  \nzx\.\.,  petite  Cojrttesse  /" 

"  I  will  tell  you.  —  But  what  is  this  stain  ?"  said  she 
pointing  to  a  spot  on  his  waistcoat.  "  The  stewed  par- 
tridges no  doubt  ?"  and  she  smiled.  "  Well,  my  dear,  I 
want  some  money." 

The  count's  face  lengthened. 

"  Really  ?"  he  said.  "  But  my  dear  little  Countess," 
and  he  uneasily  felt  for  his  pocket-book. 

<<  Yes  —  a  great  deal  of  money.  I  want  five  hun- 
dred roubles,"  and  as  she  spoke  she  rubbed  the  stain  on 
his  waistcoat  with  her  cambric  handkerchief. 

"  Certainly,  at  once. — Hi!  is  there  any  one  there  ?"  he 
shouted  with  the  decision  of  a  man  who  knows  that  he 
will  be  obeyed,  and  that  crouching  servants  will  appear 
at  his  call.     "  Ask  Mitenka  to  come  here." 

Mitenka  was  a  nobleman's  son  whom  the  count  had 
brought  up  and  then  trusted  with  the  stewardship  of  all 
his  affairs ;  he  came  with  a  slow  and  measured  step  and 
stood  respectfully  before  his  master. 

"  Listen  to  me,  my  dear  fellow  ;  bring  me,"  —  he 
paused.  "  Bring  me  seven  hundred  roubles — yes,  seven 
hundred ;  and  mind  the  notes  are  not  all  dirty  and  torn 


90 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


like  the  last.     I  want  new  ones,  they  are  for  the  coun- 
tess." 

"  Yes,  Mitenka,  let  them  be  clean  ones,  pray,"  said 
the  countess  with  a  sigh. 

"  When  does  your  Excellency  wish  to  have  them  ? 
for  you  know.  .  .  .  However,  be  quite  easy,"  added  Mit- 
enka hurriedly,  as  he  saw  the  hard,  quick  breathing 
which  in  the  count  was  the  unfailing  sign  of  a  burst  of 
rage.     "  I  forgot  —  you  shall  have  them." 

"  Very  well.  Bring  them  to  the  countess. —  What 
a  treasure  that  fellow  is !"  said  the  count  looking  after 
him,  "  he  never  says  a  thing  is  impossible,  and  that  is 
just  what  I  like ;  in  fact  just  as  it  ought  to  be." 

"  Oh !  money,  money  !  How  many  ills  it  causes  in 
this  world ;  and  this  will  be  of  the  greatest  use  to  me, 
my  dear." 

"  Everyone  knows  how  extravagant  you  are,  my 
little  Countess,"  said  her  husband ;  he  kissed  her  hand 
and  left  her. 

A  packet  of  crisp  new  notes  was  presently  brought 
to  the  countess  who  laid  them  in  her  lap  and  covered 
them  carefully  with  her  pocket-handkerchief  In  a  few 
minutes  Princess  Droubetzkoi  came  in. 

"Well,  my  dear?"  asked  the  countess  rather  ex- 
citedly. 

"  Oh  !  the  most  fearful  state  of  things. —  You  would 
not  know  him  and  he  is  so  ill !  —  I  only  staid  a  minute 
and  did  not  say  two  words." 

"  Anna,  if  you  love  me  do  not  refuse  to  do  me  a 
favor,"  said  the  countess  quite  inconsistently,  and  with 


WAR  AND    PEACE.  9 1 

a  bashful  look  that  was  oddly  out  of  place  on  her  worn 
and  rather  stern  features.  She  snatched  up  her  hand- 
kerchief and  presented  the  packet  to  Anna  Mikhail- 
ovna.  The  princess  guessed  what  it  was  at  once,  and 
leaned  over,  ready  to  clasp  her  friend  in  her  arms. 

"  It  is  to  fit  out  Boris." 

This  was  the  moment  for  effusiveness;  the  princess 
embraced  Natalie  with  a  burst  of  tears.  Why  should 
they  both  weep  ?  Was  it  because  they  were  reduced  to 
consider  the  money  question — a  sordid  matter  between 
such  devoted  friends;  or  were  they  thinking  of  their 
youth,  of  the  days  of  childhood  when  they  had  first 
loved  each  other  ?  Be  that  as  it  may,  their  tears  flowed 
freely,  and  were  tears  of  entire  satisfaction. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Countess  Rostow  was  in  the  drawing-room  with 
her  daughters  and  a  crowd  of  ladies.  Her  husband 
had  taken  the  men  into  his  private  room  and  was  dis- 
playing a  fine  collection  of  pipes ;  now  and  again  he 
came  into  the  drawing-room  to  see  whether  Marie 
Dmitrievna  Afrossimow  had  come. 

Marie  Dmitrievna  —  nicknamed  the  "  Dreadful 
Dragon"  —  had  neither  fortune  nor  title,  but  she  was 
strictly  honest  and  frank,  and  her  manners  were  natural 


92 


WAR  AND    PEACE. 


and  unaffected.  She  was  known  to  the  Imperial  family, 
and  the  best  society  of  both  capitals  was  to  be  seen  at 
her  house.  People  might  laugh  in  their  sleeves  at  her 
free  and  easy  ways,  and  tell  wonderful  stories  of  her  ec- 
centricities :  she  was  feared  and  respected  all  the  same. 

In  the  count's  room  they  were  smoking  and  talking 
over  the  war,  which  had  just  been  declared  and  publicly 
announced  in  a  manifesto  on  the  recruiting  question. 
None  of  those  present  had  read  it  yet,  but  it  was 
known  that  it  had  been  published.  The  count,  seated 
on  a  divan  between  two  of  his  guests  who  were  talking 
and  smoking,  said  not  a  word,  but  turned  from  one  to 
the  other,  listening  to  each  with  evident  satisfaction. 

One  of  them  was  in  civil  uniform;  his  wrinkled, 
yellow,  lean  and  close-shaven  face  betrayed  his  ad- 
vanced age,  though  he  was  dressed  in  the  latest  fashion ; 
he  sat  with  his  feet  curled  up  on  the  divan  in  the  atti- 
tude of  a  man  who  felt  himself  at  home,  and  he  was 
smoking  a  chibouque,  sucking  the  amber  mouthpiece 
with  noisy  deep  inspirations,  and  a  variety  of  contor- 
tions. Schinchine  was  an  old  bachelor,  a  connection 
of  the  counfesrsj'ahd  regarded  in  every  drawing-room  in 
Moscow  as  a  spiteful  gossip.  He  always  talked  as  if  he 
thought  he  was  conferring  an  honor  on  his  auditor. 
The  other  man  was  a  young  officer  in  the  Imperial 
guard,  fresh,  rosy-cheeked  and  curly;  elaborately  got 
up,  and  as  smart  as  a  new  pin.  He  held  his  chibouque 
daintily  between  his  cherry  hps,  and  puffed  off  the 
smoke  in  hght  spiral  clouds.  This  was  Lieutenant 
Berg  of  the  Semenovsky  regiment,  which  he  and  Boris 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  93. 

were  about  to  join;  and  it  was  to  him  that  Natacha 
had  alluded  as  "  Vera's  Berg." 

The  count  sat  listening  attentively,  for  his  chief  joys 
in  life  were  playing  Boston  and  absorbing  the  conver- 
sation of  two  steady  talkers  when  he  was  so  fortunate 
as  to  get  two  together. 

"  And  how  do  you  mean  to  manage  that,  my  dear 
and  highly-respected  Alphonse  Karlovitch  ?"  asked 
Schinchine  sarcastically.  He  had  a  way  of  mixing 
colloquial  Russian  vulgarisms  with  the  most  elaborate 
French  phrases  that  gave  a  quaint  originality  to  his 
conversation.  "Do  you  propose  to  invest  your  company 
in  the  state  funds  and  draw  a  handsome  interest  ?" 

"  No,  Pierre  Nicolaievitch,  I  only  aim  at  proving  that 
the  advantages  of  serving  in  the  cavalry  are  much 
smaller  than  in  the  infantry.  But  you  will  see  what  I 
mean  .  ..."  Berg  always  spoke  very  quietly,  precisely 
and  politely ;  he  never  talked  of  anything  but  himself, 
but  when  a  conversation  happened  to  have  no  personal 
interest  he  could  sit  silent  for  an  indefinate  length  of 
time  without  seeming  awkward  or  making  anyone  else 
uncomfortable,  though,  the  moment  an  opportunity  of- 
fered, he  would  come  to  the  front  with  evident  satisfac- 
tion. 

"  This  is  how  matters  stand,"  he  went  on.  "  In  the 
cavalry,  even  as  a  lieutenant,  I  should  not  have  more 
than  200  roubles  a  quarter;  now,  as  it  is  I  have  230  —  " 
and  Berg  smiled  at  Schinchine  and  the  count  with  the 
happiest  confidence  that  his  career  and  his  interests 
must   be  of  the  highest   importance  to  his  audience. 


94  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

"Then,  I  am  seen  and  known,  and  vacancies  occur 
more  frequently.  Of  course  I  could  not  go  on  for  ever 
on  230  roubles,  for  I  save  some  money  and  send  it  to 
my  father,"  Berg  added,  puffing  out  a  cloud  of  smoke. 

"The  calculation  is  a  close  one,  'a  German  can 
grind  his  corn  on  the  back  of  his  hatchet,'  says  the 
proverb  .  .  .  ." 

And  Schinchine  shifted  his  pipe  to  the  other  corner 
of  his  mouth  with  a  side  glance  at  the  count  who 
laughed  heartily.  The  rest  of  the  company,  seeing  that 
Schinchine  was  in  the  vein,  gathered  round  them, 
while  Berg,  who  never  perceived  that  he  was  being 
laughed  at,  proceeded  to  enumerate  all  the  advantages 
he  had  gained  by  exchanging  into  the  guard :  a  rise  in 
rank  to  begin  with;  then,  in  war-time,  the  officer  in 
command  might  be  killed  and  he,  as  senior  would  be 
all  the  more  likely  to  be  appointed  in  his  stead,  as  he 
was  a  favorite  in  the  regiment,  and  his  papa  was  very 
proud  of  him.  He  told  all  his  little  stories  with  the 
greatest  enjoyment,  never  seeming  to  suspect  that  there 
could  be  any  more  important  interests  in  the  world 
than  his  own ;  and  there  was  something  so  ingenuous 
in  his  innocent  and  youthful  egoism  that  his  hearers 
were  disarmed. 

"  Ah  well,  my  boy,  you  will  get  on  whether  in  the 
cavalry  or  the  infantry,  I  will  answer  for  that,"  said 
Schinchine  patting  him  on  the  shoulder  as  he  put 
down  his  feet.  Berg  smiled  self-satisfied  and  followed 
the  count  who  led  the  way  into  the  drawing-room. 

It  was  just  before  dinner  was  announced,  the  mo- 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  95 

ment  when  no  one  cares  to  begin  a  conversation  in  ex- 
pectation of  the  zazouska.*  PoHteness,  however,  de- 
mands at  any  rate  a  pretense  of  talk,  if  only  as  a  cover 
to  hide  one's  impatience.  The  host  and  hostess  keep 
an  eye  on  the  dining-room  door  and  exchange  uneasy 
glances ;  the  guests  on  their  part,  catching  these  hints 
of  despair,  rack  their  brains  to  guess  why  or  for  whom 
they  are  kept  waiting  —  is  it  some  influential  relation,  or 
is  it  the  soup  ? 

Pierre  had  only  just  come  in  and  had  seated  him- 
self, clumsily  as  usual,  in  the  first  arm-chair  he  saw,  in 
the  very  middle  of  the  room.  The  countess  was  doing 
her  best  to  make  him  talk  but  could  only  extract  mono- 
syllables, while  he  sat  staring  about  him  through  his 
spectacles  as  if  he  were  looking  for  someone.  He  was, 
no  doubt,  very  much  in  the  way,  but  he  was  the  only 
person  who  failed  to  perceive  it.  Everyone  had  heard 
something  of  the  history  of  the  bear,  so  this  big,  burly, 
stalwart  young  fellow  was  an  object  of  general  curiosity; 
people  wondered  how  such  a  heavy,  indolent  creature 
could  have  played  such  a  trick  on  a  police-officer. 

"  You  have  only  just  come  in  ?"  asked  the  countess. 

"  Yes,  Madame,"  and  he  looked  to  the  left. 

"  You  have  not  seen  my  husband  ?" 

"  No,  Madame,"  and  he  smiled  vaguely. 

'*  You  were  at  Paris  not  long  since ;  it  must  be  an 
interesting  place." 

"Very  interesting." 

*  Caviar  or  pickled  fish  served  vi^ith  brandy  before  dinner  to  whet 
the  appetite. 


96 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


The  countess  cast  a  beseeching  glance  at  Anna  Mik- 
hailovna  who,  catching  this  silent  entreaty  on  the  wing, 
as  it  were,  came  forward  to  put  a  little  life,  if  possible, 
into  the  conversation.  She  spoke  to  Pierre  of  his  father, 
but  with  no  better  success;  he  could  only  answer  in 
monosyllables. 

The  rest  of  the  company  were  gossiping  languidly ; 
one  heard  such  phrases  as :  "  The  Razoumovskys  — 
quite  dehghtful.  —  How  kind  you  are.  —  Countess 
Apraxine  .  .  .  ."  when  the  countess  suddenly  moved 
across  the  room  and  a  servant  shouted :  "  Marie 
Dmitrievna." 

"  Her  very  self,"  added  a  rather  harsh  voice,  and 
Marie  Dmitrievna  came  in. 

Excepting  the  old  ladies  all,  whether  girls  or  married 
women,  rose  to  receive  her.  She  paused  in  the  door- 
way. She  was  tall,  masculine  and  erect,  a  woman  of 
fifty  with  iron  grey  curls ;  and  while  she  affected  to  be 
deliberately  patting  down  her  cuffs  she  cast  a  searching 
glance  round  at  all  the  company.  Marie  Dmitrievna 
always  spoke  Russian. 

"  Health  and  happiness  to  the  lady  we  are  met  to 
honor  —  to  her  and  to  all  her  children  !"  she  said  in  her 
full  voice  which  sounded  above  every  other.  "  And 
what  are  you  doing  with  yourself  in  Moscow,  old  sin- 
ner ?"  she  went  on  to  the  count,  who  kissed  her  hand. 
"  You  are  bored  to  death  here,  confess  it ;  there  is  no- 
where to  give  a  dog  a  good  run. —  What  is  to  be  done, 
my  good  man?  As  these  little  birds  grow  up — "  and 
she   waved   a  hand   towards   the  girls  —  "  they  must 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


97 


have  husbands  found  for  them,  whether  or  no. —  And 
you,  my  little  Cossack — "  so  she  always  called  Natacha, 
and  she  stroked  her  hair  while  the  child  merrily  kissed 
her  hand  without  the  least  shyness. —  "This  child  is  an 
elf,  I  knov/,  but  I  am  very  fond  of  her."  She  took  out 
of  a  vast  hand-bag  a  pair  of  ear-rings;  pear-shaped 
drops  of  fine  gems,  and  gave  them  to  the  little  girl  who 
beamed  with  delight;  then,  turning  to  Pierre  she 
added  in  a  tone  that  she  meant  to  be  insinuating:  "  Ho, 
ho!  my  good  friend,  come  here,  come  to  me,"  and  she 
turned  back  her  wide  sleeves  with  a  threatening  gesture. 

"Come  here,  come  close.  I  was  the  only  person  to 
tell  the  truth  to  your  father  when  occasion  required  it, 
and  I  am  not  going  to  spare  you.  It  is  my  mission 
from  God." 

She  paused  and  everyone  listened  for  what  would 
follow  this  thunder  of  a  coming  storm:  "Well,  you  are 
a  pretty  fellow,  I  must  say  .  .  .  While  your  father  is  ly- 
ing on  a  bed  of  sickness  you  can  amuse  yourself  with 
lashing  a  police-officer  on  to  a  bear's  back  !  It  is  inde- 
cent, positively  indecent,  boy !  You  had  better  have 
gone  to  the  war." 

She  turned  her  back  on  him  and  giving  her  hand  to 
the  count:  "Well,  to  dinner!"  she  exclaimed,  "it  is 
ready  I  believe!" 

The  count  led  the  way  with  Marie  Dmitrievna; 
the  countess  followed  with  the  Colonel  of  Hussars,  who 
was  a  guest  to  be  made  much  of  as  Nicolas  was  to  go 
with  him  to  join  his  regiment.  Anna  Mikhailovna 
went  with  Schinchine;  Berg  took  Vera,  Nicolas  took 


98  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

Julie  Karaguine,  all  smiles,  and  the  rest  of  the  party 
came  in  couples  along  the  great  dining-room,  the  pro- 
cession closing  with  the  governesses  and  tutors,  each 
leading  one  of  the  children.  The  servants  rushed  to 
push  in  the  chairs  with  much  noise,  a  band  struck  up 
in  the  gallery,  and  everyone  sat  down.  The  music  was 
soon  drowned  in  the  clatter  of  knives  and  forks,  the 
voices  of  the  company,  and  the  bustle  of  the  servants. 
The  countess  sat  at  one  end  of  the  table  with  Marie 
Dmitrievna  at  her  right,  and  Anna  Mikhaijovna  on 
her  left;  the  count,  at  the  other  end,  was  between 
Schinchine  and  the  colonel;  the  rest  of  the  gentlemen 
placed  themselves  as  they  pleased;  in  the  middle,  on 
one  side,  Vera  with  Berg,  Pierre  and  Boris  faced  the 
children  and  their  guardians  on  the  other.  The  count 
kept  glancing  at  his  wife  and  her  towering  cap  with 
blue  ribands,  which  he  could  see  between  the  decanters, 
bottles,  and  high  dishes  of  fruit  which  stood  between 
them,  and  devoted  himself  to  offering  wine  to  his  neigh- 
bors, not  forgetting  himself.  The  Qountess,  peeping 
over  the  crowns  of  the  pine-apples,  responded  to  her 
husband's  glances;  his  rubicund  forehead,  framed  in 
scanty  grey  hair,  was  a  conspicuous  object. 

At  the  ladies'  end  there  was  a  buzz  of  voices  in 
unison;  at  the  men's  end,  tones  by  degrees  grew  louder, 
and  the  colonel's  voice  particularly,  for  he  eat  and  drank 
so  much  and  so  heartily  that  his  face  had  grown  purple, 
while  the  count  held  him  up  as  an  example  to  his  other 
guests.  Berg,  with  a  tender  smile,  was  explaining  to 
Vera  that  love  was  a  gift  from  Heaven  and  not  a  pro- 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  99 

duct  of  this  world.  Boris  was  naming  the  persons 
present  to  his  new  friend  Pierre,  and  sending  meaning 
glances  at  Natacha  who  sat  opposite  to  him.  Pierre 
spoke  little ;  he  was  studying  the  faces  he  did  not  know 
and  eating  with  a  will.  Of  two  soups  that  had  been 
offered  him  he  had  chosen  turtle,  and  from  the  kouli- 
biaka*  to  the  last  course  —  the  birds  basted  with 
Madeira  —  he  had  not  let  a  single  dish  pass,  or  refused  a 
single  wine  of  all  the  variety  offered  by  the  butler  who 
stood  majestically  behind  him  and  muttered  in  his  ears: 
"  Dry  Madeira,  Hungarian  wine,  Rhine  wine." 

He  drank  indiscriminately  out  of  either  of  his 
glasses  —  four,  with  the  count's  arms  engraved  on  them, 
were  placed  by  every  guest  —  and  he  felt  a  flow  of  gen- 
eral benevolence  towards  all  his  neighbors  which  grew 
with  each  bumper  that  he  swallowed.  Natacha  sat 
gazing  at  Boris  as  none  but  a  very  young  girl  can  when 
she  is  first  in  love,  and  especially  when  she  has  just  had 
a  kiss  from  the  hero  of  her  dreams.  Pierre  did  not 
trouble  himself  about  her,  but  as  he  caught  sight  of  the 
strange  little  person,  with  her  eyes  glowing  with  passion, 
he  felt  a  weak  disposition  to  laugh. 

Nicolas,  who  was  a  long  way  from  Sonia,  by  the 
side  of  Julie  Karaguine,  chatted  gaily  with  his  neighbor. 
Sonia,  too,  could  smile,  but  jealousy  was  gnawing  at  her 
heart;  she  turned  red  and  pale  alternately,  and  racked 
her  brain  to  guess  what  they  could  be  saying  to  each 

*■  Koulibiaka  is  a  popular  Russian  dish :  Cold  fish  and  hard- 
boiled  eggs,  flavored  to  taste,  are  mixed  with  cold,  well-cooked  buck- 
wheat, rolled  up  in  paste  and  baked.  Leavened  dough  paste  is 
preferred.— Translator. 


lOO  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

Other.  The  governess  sat  looking  pugnacious,  as  if 
prepared  to  turn  and  rend  any  one  who  should  speak  to 
the  children;  the  German  tutor  was  trying  to  take 
mental  note  of  all  the  dishes  and  wines  that  were 
passed  round,  so  as  to  give  a  full  description  of  them  in 
his  next  letter  home,  and  he  was  deeply  hurt  because 
the  butler  paid  him  no  attention  and  never  offered  him 
wine.  He  swallowed  his  humiliation  as  best  he  could, 
making  believe  that  he  did  not  wish  for  any,  and  trying 
to  persuade  himself  that  if  he  had  taken  any  it  would 
have  been  merely  from  motives  of  scientific  curiosity. 

The  conversation  among  the  gentlemen  was  growing 
loud  and  eager.  The  colonel  said  that  the  manifesto 
declaring  war  was  already  issued  in  St.  Petersburg,  and 
that  he  had  seen  a  copy  which  a  courier  had  just 
brought  to  the  commander-in-chief. 

"  What  evil  star  is  leading  us  to  fight  against 
Napoleon  ?"  cried  Schinchine.  "  He  has  succeeded 
already  in  teaching  Austria  to  hold  her  tongue;  now  I 
am  afraid  it  will  be  our  turn." 

The  colonel  who  was  a  German,  stalwart  and  ruddy, 
a  good  officer,  and  a  staunch  Russian  in  spite  of  his 
foreign  birth,  fired  up  at  these  words. 

"An  evil  star!"  he  exclaimed,  with  his  barbarous 
accent.  "  When  it  is  the  Czar,  Sir,  who  knows  why  ! 
He  says  in  his  manifesto  that  he  cannot  remain  indiffer- 
ent to  the  danger  that  threatens  Russia  and  that  the 
safety  of  the  empire  and  the  sacred  dignity  of  his 
alliances.  ..."  and  he  emphasized  the  word  as  if  it 
contained  all  the  marrow  of  the  matter. 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  lOI 

Then,  with  the  faciHty  of  a  man  who  has  had  long 
practice  in  remembering  official  edicts,  he  proceeded  to 
quote  the  opening  clause  of  the  manifesto :  " '  The 
Emperor's  sole  and  constant  wish  and  aim  being  the 
establishment  of  a  permanent  peace  in  Europe,  he  has 
determined,  in  the  hope  of  attaining  that  end,  to  send  a 
portion  of  the  army  across  the  frontier.'  —  There,  Sir, 
that  is  the  reason,"  and  he  slowly  emptied  his  glass, 
looking  round  at  the  count  for  approbation. 

"  You  know  the  saying :  '  Jeremiah,  Jeremiah,  stay 
at  home  and  mind  the  spindle,'  "  *  retorted  Schinchine 
sarcastically.  "  It  fits  us  like  a  glove.  When  we 
remember  that  even  Souvorow  was  beaten  hollow — and 
where  is  there  a  Souvorow  now-a-days,  let  me  ask  ?" 
he  said  dropping  from  Russian  into  French. 

"  We  ought  to  fight  to  the  last  drop  of  our  blood !" 
exclaimed  the  officer,  striking  the  table  with  his  fist, 
"  and  be  ready  to  die  for  the  Emperor !  That  is  what 
we  must  do  and  argue  as  little  as  possible,"  he  added 
pointedly  as  he  addressed  the  count.  "  That  is  the  form 
of  argument  that  goes  down  with  us  old  hussars. — And 
you,  young  man,  and  young  hussar,  how  do  you  argue  ?" 
and  he  turned  to  Nicolas  who  was  neglecting  his  fair 
neighbor  to  listen. 

"  I  entirely  agree  with  you,"  he  said  turning  as  red 
as  a  poppy,  twisting  his  plate  round  and  fidgeting  with 
his  glass  till  he  was  like  to  break  it.  "  I  feel  that  the 
thing  for  us  Russians  is  to  conquer  or  to  die.  .  .  ."  He 
had  hardly  finished  his  sentence  when  its  absurdity 
*  Anglice  :  "  Cobbler,  cobbler,  stick  to  your  last." 


I02  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

Struck  him :  it  was  pompous  and  declamatory,  and 
quite  beside  the  question. 

"  That  is  splendid !"  murmured  Julie  Karaguine 
with  a  sigh.  Sonia,  quivering  with  excitement  had 
colored  up,  too,  while  Pierre  expressed  his  admiration 
of  the  colonel's  speech. 

"  That  is  something  hke !"  he  said. 

"  You  are  a  true  hussar,  young  man !"  cried  the 
colonel,  and  again  he  thumped  the  table. 

"  Heh  day  !  What  is  all  that  noise  about  ?"  It  was 
Marie  Dmitrievna  who  asked.  "  Why  such  a  thump- 
ing ?  Who  are  you  fighting  with  ?  Wliy  you  are  as 
furious  as  if  you  were  charging  the  French.  .  . ." 

"I  am  speaking  the  truth  !"  retorted  the  officer. 

"  We  are  talking  about  the  war,  Marie  Dmitrievna," 
said  the  count.  "  Do  you  know  I  have  a  son  who  is 
going  into  the  army." 

''  Well,  and  I  have  four  in  the  army,  and  I  do  not 
complain.  The  will  of  God  governs  all.  One  may  die 
lying  on  one's  stove  *  or  come  safe  out  of  a  battle," 
said  Marie  Dmitrievna,  her  loud  voice  ringing  across  the 
table. 

Then  the  conversation  again  was  among  the  women, 
on  one  side,  and  the  men  on  the  other. 

"  I  tell  you,  you  will  not  do  it,"  said  Petroucha  to 
Natacha  in  a  whisper.     "  You  will  not  dare  to  ask." 

"I  tell  you  I  will,"  said  Natacha;  and  half  rising 
from   her    seat,    her   face    crimson    with    mischief  and 

*  In  Russia  the  peasant's  houses  are  fitted  with  stoves  on  which 
they  can  sleep  in  the  winter. 


WAR   AND   PEACE.  IO3 

audacity,  she  challenged  Pierre's  attention  with  a  glance: 
"  Mamma,"  she  said  in  her  clear,  childish  voice. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  said  the  countess  in  alarm ;  for  she 
suspected  some  monkey's  trick  from  the  Httle  girl's  face, 
and  held  up  a  warning  finger,  shaking  her  head  in  dis- 
pleasure. 

There  was  a  sudden  silence. 

"  Mamma,  what  sweet  dish  is  coming  ?"  Natacha 
went  on  without  hesitating  a  moment. 

Her  mother  vainly  tried  to  silence  her.  ,_^'' 

"  Ah !  Cossack !"  said  Marie  Dmitrievna  raising  a 
threatening  forefinger.  The  company  looked  at  each 
other;  the  elders  doubting  how  to  take  the  interrup- 
tion. 

"  Mamma,  tell  me  what  sweets  ?"  repeated  Natacha, 
not  at  all  uneasy  as  to  the  result  of  her  prank.  Sonia 
and  Pierre  were  in  fits  of  suppressed  laughter. 

"  There,  you  see  —  I  did  ask,"  said  Natacha,  turn- 
ing to  her  little  brother. 

"  Ices  —  and  you  Avill  not  be  allowed  any,"  said 
Marie  Dmitrievna. 

Natacha,  seeing  that  she  had  nothing  more  to  fear 
even  from  this  imposing  personage,  answered  her 
boldly.     "  What  ice  ?  —  I  do  not  like  cream  ice." 

"  Carrot  ice  then  ?" 

"  No,  no — what  ice,  Tvlarie  Dmitrievna,  what  ice  ?  I 
want  to  know." 

The  countess  laughed  and  every  one  laughed  with 
her;  not  so  much  at  Marie  Dmitrievna's  retort  as  at 
the  child's  audacity  and  tact  in  daring  to  hold  her  own. 


I04  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

Natacha  was  told  pine-apple  ice  and  she  quieted 
down.  Then  champagne  was  taken  round,  the  band 
struck  up  again;  the  count  kissed  his  'Mittle  Countess  " 
and  all  the  guests  rose  to  pledge  them  and  drink  their 
health  touching  glasses  with  their  hosts,  with  their  vis- 
a-vis, with  their  neighbors,  and  with  the  children.  The 
servants  drew  back  the  chairs  and  all  the  company,  a 
little  heated  with  dinner  and  wine,  filed  out  in  couples 
as  they  had  come  in,  and  returned  to  the  drawing-room 
.in  the  same  order. 

The  card-tables  were  placed  ready;  sets  were  formed 
for  games  at  Boston,*  and  the  company  dispersed  in  the 
reception-rooms  and  the  library.  The  count  sat  gaz- 
ing at  a  pack  of  cards  spread  out  before  him  like  a  fan. 
At  this  hour  he  was  accustomed  to  take  a  nap,  and  he 
was  doing  his  best  to  conquer  his  disposition  to  sleep, 
and  laughing  at  everything  that  was  said  to  him.  The 
young  people,  following  the  mistress  of  the  house,  had 
gathered  round  the  piano  and  the  harp.  Julie,  yielding 
to  a  general  request,  performed  an  air  with  variations  on 
this  instrument  and  then  joined  the  rest  of  the  party  in 
begging  Natacha  and  Nicolas,  whose  musical  talents 
were  known  to  all,  to  sing  something.  Natacha,  though 
much  flattered  at  being  treated  like  a  grown-up  person, 
was  rather  alarmed. 

"What  are  we  to  sing  ?"  she  asked. 

"Z<z  Source''  said  Nicolas. 


*  A  game  of  cards  said  to  have  been  invented  by  ofificers  of  the 
French  army  in  America  during  the  time  of  the  Revolutionary  war. — 
Translator. 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  105 

"  Well,  let  US  begin.  —  Where  is  Sonia  ?  Come, 
Eoris."  And  seeing  that  her  cousin  was  not  in  the 
room,  Natacha  flew  off  in  search  of  her.  She  ran  to 
Sonia's  room  but  it  was  deserted ;  in  the  school-room — 
no  one.  Then  it  struck  her  that  Sonia  would  be  sitting 
on  the  bench  in  the  corridor.  This  seat  was  the  spot 
^^-consecrated  to  tlie  griefs  of  the  young  ladies  of  the 
family;  there  no  doubt  Sonia  would  be  found.  —  And 
there  she  was,  flung  upon  tlie  seat,  crying  bitterly,  in  her 
gauzy  pink  dress  which  she  was  crumpling  cruelly 
without  heeding  it;  her  bare  shoulders  throbbed  con- 
vulsively with  her  sobs  and  her  face,  covered  with  her 
hands,  was  hidden  in  a  dirty  striped  cushion  that 
belonged  to  her  old  nurse.  Natacha's  face,  till  this 
moment  so  radiant,  lost  its  festal  expression  —  her  eyes 
grew  rounder,  the  veins  of  her  throat  swelled  and  the 
corners  of  her  mouth  drooped. 

"  Sonia,  what  has  happened,  what  is  the  matter  ? 
Oh  dear,  oh  dear!"  And  at  the  sight  of  Sonia's  distress 
she,  too,  melted  into  tears.  Sonia  tried  to  look  up  and 
tell  her,  but  it  was  too  much  for  her;  she  buried  her 
head  more  deeply  in  the  pillow.  Natacha  sat  down  by 
her  and  threw  her  arms  round  her,  and  at  length,  con- 
trolling herself  a  little,  Sonia  half  raised  herself  and 
wiped  her  eyes. 

"  Nicolas  is  going  in  a  week,"  she  sobbed.  "  The 
order  is  out,  he  told  me  so  himself  But  I  should  not 
have  cried  for  that.  .  .  ."  she  added,  and  she  showed 
Natacha  a  paper  she  held  on  which  Nicolas  had  written 
some  verses.     ''  But  you  cannot  understand  me  —  and 


Io6  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

no  one  knows  how  good  and  noble  he  is !  You  are 
happy  —  and  I  am  sure  I  do  not  grudge  it  you,  for  I 
love  you  and  Boris,  too;  he  is  a  nice,  dear  fellow  and 
nothing  need  come  between  you;  but  Nicolas  is  my 
cousin  and  the  bishop  himself ...  or  else  it  is  impossi- 
ble. And  then  if  mamma  (for  Sonia  always  thought  of 
the  countess  as  her  mother)  were  to  think  I  was  a  hin- 
drance or  a  check  on  his  future  prospects.  —  She  would 
say  I  was  ungrateful  and  heartless ;  but  God  is  my 
witness  I  love  him  so  much,  and  her  too,  and  all  of 
you  —  except  Vera ;  —  what  have  I  done  to  her  that 
she.  .  .  .  ?  Yes,  and  I  am  so  truly  grateful  that  I  would 
make  any  sacrifice.  .  .but  I  have  nothing,  nothing.  .  .  ." 

And  Sonia,  unable  to  control  herself,  hid  her  face 
again  in  the  cushion.  It  was  clear  from  the  earnestness 
of  Natacha's  efforts  at  consolation  that  she  understood 
how  deeply  her  friend  was  wounded. 

"  Sonia  !"  she  said.  Suddenly  the  truth  had  dawned 
on  her.  "  I  will  bet  that  Vera  has  been  talking  to  you 
since  dinner  ?" 

"  But  it  was  Nicolas  who  wrote  these  verses,  and  I 
had  copied  the  others,  and  she  found  them  on  my  table 
and  says  she  will  show  them  to  mamma  .  .  .  And  she 
says  I  am  ungrateful,  and  that  mamma  will  never  let 
me  marry  him  —  that  he  will  marry  JuHe  Karaguine, 
and  you  see  how  he  has  devoted  himself  to  her  all  day: 
oh,  Natacha,  why  is  it  ?"  and  her  tears  flowed  again. 

Natacha  drew  her  to  her,  kissing  her  and  smiling  at 
her  through  her  own  tears. 

"  Sonia,  do  not  believe  her.     Remember  what  we 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  I07 

were  saying,  you  and  I  and  Nicolas,  after  supper  the 
other  evening.  We  settled  it  all  —  I  forget  exactly 
how,  but  I  know  it  all  came  right  and  was  quite  pos- 
sible. Uncle  Schinchine's  brother  married  his  first 
cousin  and  we  are  much  further  off.  And  even  Boris 
said  there  would  be  no  difficulty ;  I  told  him  all  about 
it,  he  is  so  clever  and  so  kind.  Do  not  cry,  Sonia,  my 
pet,  my  darling  .  .  .  ." 

And  she  laughed  and  covered  her  with  kisses. 
"Vera  is  so  spiteful;  but  let  her  be,  and  it  will  all  come 
right.  And  she  will  not  tell  mamma;  Nicolas  will  tell 
her  himself.     He  does  not  care  for  Juhe." 

She  kissed  Sonia  again  and  the  girl  started  up,  her 
eyes  bright  with  joy  and  hope.  She  really  was  a  sweet 
kitten  that  seemed  only  to  be  on  the  lookout  for  the 
moment  when  it  might  drop  softly  on  its  paws  and 
spring  after  the  ball  that,  like  others  of  its  kind,  it  could 
play  so  skilfully. 

"  You  think  so  ?  You  are  sure  ?  You  swear  it  ?'^ 
she  exclaimed  eagerly,  as  she  shook  out  her  skirts  and 
smoothed  down  her  hair. 

"  I  swear  it,"  said  Natacha,  fastening  up  a  strand  of 
hair  that  had  fallen  away  from  her  long  plaits. 

"  Well  then,  come  along,  and  we  will  sing  La 
Source^'  they  exclaimed,  laughing  together. 

"Do  you  know,  that  big  Pierre  who  sat  opposite  to 
me  is  immensely  funny,"  said  Natacha  stopping  sud- 
denly. "Oh,  what  fun  it  all  is!"  and  she  danced  away. 
Sonia  shook  off  the  down  that  had  clung  to  her  dress. 


I08  WAR   AND   PEACE. 

slipped  the  verses  inside  her  bodice,  and  followed  her 
hastily,  with  glowing  cheeks. 

The  quartette,  as  may  be  supposed,  was  a  great  suc- 
cess.    Then  Nicolas  sang  a  new  song : 

Phoebe  is  shining  in  the  night, 

Of  thee  I  dream,  my  leal  heart's  flight 

Thy  heart  doth  seek,  my  worshipped  one  ; 

In  dreams  I  see  thy  fingers  fair 

Draw  forth  the  gilded  harp's  sweet  tone. . . 

But  what  avails  each  tender  air 

From  my  dear  love,  each  fond  appeal, 

If  still  my  burning  lips  beneath 

Her  kisses  thrill  not,  ere  they  feel 

The  icy,  frozen  kiss  of  death  ? 

He  had  no  sooner  finished  than  the  band  in  the 
gallery  struck  up  a  dance-tune  and  all  the  young  people 
rushed  in. 

Schinchine  had  taken  possession  of  Pierre,  whom 
he  regarded  as  a  choice  morsel  freshly  imported  for  his 
benefit,  and  he  was  starting  a  tiresome  political  discus- 
sion when  Natacha  came  into  the  drawing-room  again, 
and  walking  straight  up  to  Pierre  said  with  a  laugh  and 
a  blush : 

"Mamma  desires  me  to  ask  you  to  come  and 
dance." 

"But  I  am  afraid  I  shall  put  all  the  figures  into 
confusion,"  said  Pierre,  "however,  if  you  will  be  my 
guide  ..."  And  he  offered  the  little  girl  his  hand. 

While  the  couples  were  taking  their  places  and  the 
instruments  were  tuning  up,  Pierre  took  a  seat  by  his 
little  lady's  side,  and  she  could  hardly  contain  herself 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  IO9 

for  joy  at  the  mere  idea  of  dancing  with  a  big  man, 
just  come  from  abroad,  and  of  talking  to  him  hke  a 
grown-up  person.  She  sat  flirting  a  fan  that  someone 
had  given  her  to  hold,  and  with  an  air  of  perfect  ease,^ 
picked  up  God  knows  where  or  how,  she  chatted  and 
laughed  with  her  tall  partner.  y 

"Look  at  her — do  look  at  her!"  said  the  countess 
as  she  crossed  the  room. 

Natacha  colored,  but  did  not  lose  her  self-posses- 
sion :  "  Mamma  how  can  you  like  .  .  .  What  is  there  ex- 
traordinary in  me?" 

They  were  dancing  the  third  set  when  the  count 
and  Marie  Dmitrievna,  who  had  been  playing  cards, 
pushed  back  their  chairs  and  came  into  the  ball-room, 
followed  by  some  elderly  folks,  stretching  their  limbs 
after  sitting  still  for  so  long  and  slipping  their  purses 
back  into  their  pockets.  Marie  Dmitrievna  and  her 
partner  were  in  the  best  of  humors;  the  count  offered 
the  lady  his  hand  like  a  ballet  dancer,  with  an  angular 
bend  of  the  wrist  in  a  style  of  comically  theatrical  po- 
liteness, and  she  graciously  laid  her  fingers  on  it.  The 
master  of  the  house,  drawing  himself  up  with  great 
spirit  and  liveliness,  waited  till  the  set  was  over;  then 
he  clapped  his  hands  and  turning  to  the  leader  of  the 
band:  "Semione,"  he  said,  "play  Daniel  Cooper — you 
know." 

This  was  his  favorite  dance,  the  dance  of  his  youth, 
one  of  the  figures  of  the  ^^Anglaise^ 

"Oh,  do  look  at  papa!"  cried  Natacha  at  the  top  of 
her  voice,  and  forgetting  that  she  was  dancing  with  a 


no  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

grown-up  man,  she  bent  over  her  knees,  laughing 
heartily. 

Indeed  the  whole  room  was  amused  with  watching 
the  action  and  attitudes  of  the  jolly  little  old  gentleman 
and  his  imposing  partner,  who  was  taller  than  he  was. 
With  his  elbows  curved,  his  shoulders  held  in,  and  his 
toes  turned  out,  he  stood  beating  time  with  his  foot  on 
the  floor.  The  radiant  smile  on  his  face  gave  warning 
of  what  was  coming  and  at  the  first  notes  of  the  irre- 
sistible tune  of  Daniel  Cooper,  which  always  reminded 
him  of  the  ^^trepak'' — the  national  dance  of  Russia — 
€very  door  was  filled  with  men  on  one  side  and  women 
on  the  other:  these  were  the  servants  who  had  as- 
sembled to  enjoy  the  sight  of  their  master's  merry  freak. 

"Our  Father  in  Heaven!"  cried  the  old  nurse, 
^'what  an  eagle  he  is!" 

The  count's  dancing  was  a  work  of  art  and  he  was 
proud  of  it — as  to  the  lady,  she  never  had  tried  even  to 
dance  well. 

She  gave  her  hand-bag  into  the  countess's  keeping 
and  stood  upright  and  immovable,  looking  quite  a 
giantess.  Her  large  hands  hung  down  by  the  side  of 
her  large  person,  and  a  fixed  smile,  with  a  slight  quiv- 
ering of  the  nostrils,  gave  the  only  sign  of  animation  to 
her  features,  which  were  well-cut  though  stem.  If  the 
gentleman  charmed  all  hearts  by  the  briskness  and 
grace  of  his  steps  and  capers,  the  smallest  movement 
on  the  lady's  part  excited  no  less  enthusiasm.  Marie 
Dmitrievna,  as  she  "set"  to  her  partner,  or  gave  him 
her  hand  for  a  half  turn,  or  merely  moved  her  shoulders, 


WAR  AND    PEACE.  Ill 

was  very  dignified  in  spite  of  her  large  size,  and  was 
greatly  admired;  her  habitual  severe  reserve  made  it  all 
the  more  wonderful.  The  dance  grew  more  lively,  the 
other  couples  were  forgotten;  all  eyes  were  centered 
on  the  two  older  folks.  Natacha  kept  pulhng  the 
dresses  of  everyone  near  her  to  bid  them  look  at  her 
father,  and  heaven  knows  they  needed  no  telling. 

In  the  intervals  of  the  figure  the  count  stopped  for 
breatli,  fanned  himself  with  his  handkerchief  and  shouted 
to  the  musicians  to  play  faster.  Then  he  began  again, 
hopping  round  his  partner,  now  on  his  toes  and  now  on 
his  heels.  At  last,  quite  carried  away  by  his  childlike 
excitement,  after  conducting  the  lady  to  her  seat  and 
bowing  gallantly,  he  concluded  his  terpsichorean  per- 
formance by  lifting  one  leg  in  the  air  and  spinning  a 
splendid  pirouette,  amid  the  applause  and  laughter  of 
all  the  spectators,  and  to  Natacha's  great  delight. 

The  two  dancers  were  quite  out  of  breath  and  per- 
spiring with  heat. 

"  Ah !  my  dear,  that  is  how  we  used  to  dance  when 
I  was  young!"  exclaimed  the  count. 

"  Hurrah  for  Daniel  Cooper  P'  said  Marie  Dmitrievna, 
and  she  turned  up  her  cuffs. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

While  at  the  Rostows'  the  seventh  set  was  being 
danced  —  the   band   playing  out  of  tune  from    sheer 


112  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

fatigue,  and  the  servants,  almost  worn  out,  were  prepar- 
ing supper — Count  Besoukhow  was  struck  by  a  sixth  fit 
of  apoplexy.  The  physicians  having  pronounced  him 
past  all  hope,  the  form  of  confession  was  read  over  the 
dying  man,  the  Sacrament  was  administered,  and  ar- 
rangements were  made  for  performing  the  rites  of 
extreme  unction. 

All  the  bustle  and  expectancy  inevitable  on  such 
occasions  had  gathered  round  the  rich  man's  death-bed. 
Undertakers'  agents,  scenting  a  magnificent  funeral, 
crowded  round  the  front  door,  dodging  to  hide  them- 
selves behind  the  carriages  that  drove  up  to  make 
enquiries.  The  military  governor  of  Moscow,  who  had 
sent  his  aides-de-camp  several  times  to  ask  how  the 
invalid  was  progressing,  came  this  evening  in  person  to 
bid  a  last  farewell  to  this  illustrious  contemporary  of  the 
great  Catharine.  The  state  reception-room  was  full  of 
people.  All  rose  respectfully  as  the  general  came  in 
to  spend  half  an  hour  with  the  dying  man ;  he  bowed 
right  and  left  as  he  hurried  througli  the  room,  an  object 
of  universal  attention. 

Presently  Prince  Basil  came  out  with  him,  speaking 
to  him  in  a  low  voice.  The  prince  was  pale,  and  had 
grown  thinner;  as  he  returned  from  escorting  the 
governor  to  his  carriage  he  stopped  in  the  great  room 
and  dropped  into  a  chair,  covering  his  eyes  with  his 
hands.  He  soon  rose,  however,  and  making  his  way 
with  a  look  of  anxious  haste  towards  a  passage  which 
led  to  the  rooms  of  the  eldest  princess,  he  disappeared. 

The   visitors   who   remained   in   the   dimly-lighted 


WAR  AND    PEACE.  II3 

drawing-room,  whispered  together  or  relapsed  into 
sudden  silence,  casting  eager  and  inquisitive  glances  at 
the  door  whenever  it  opened  for  any  one  going  into  or 
coming  out  of  the  sick-room. 

"  The  end  is  very  near,"  said  an  old  priest  to  a  lady 
who  was  listening  with  profound  respect.  "  Very  near — 
he  cannot  last  much  longer." 

"  Is  it  not  too  late  for  extreme  unction  ?"  asked  the 
lady,  affecting  ignorance  on  the  point. 

"  It  is  a  very  solemn  sacrament,"  replied  the  minis- 
ter of  the  Church,  and  he  gently  passed  his  hand  over 
his  bald  head  to  stroke  forward  a  few  locks  of  grey  hair. 

"  Who  was  it  ?  The  commandant  ?"  asked  some 
one  at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  "  How  young  he 
looks  !" 

"  He  is  very  nearly  seventy.  —  They  say  the  count  is 
quite  unconscious  .  .  .  They  are  going  to  administer 
extreme  unction.  .  .  ." 

"  Oh !  I  knew  a  person  who  received  it  seven 
times !" 

Count  Besoukhow's  second  niece  had  just  come  out 
of  his  room  ;  her  eyes  were  red.  She  seated  herself  by 
the  side  of  Dr.  Lorrain  who  had  placed  himself  in  a 
graceful  attitude  under  the  portrait  of  the  Empress 
Catharine. 

"  It  is  lovely  weather,  Princess,  really  lovely,"  said 
the  doctor  ..."  one  could  fancy  oneself  in  the  coun- 
try. .  .  ." 

"  Yes,  quite.  .  .  ,"  said  the  princess  with  a  sigh. 
"  May  I  give  him  something  to  drink  ?" 

Vol.  J.  8 


114  '^^^   ^'^'^    PEACE. 

Lorrain  seemed  to  be  considering. 

"He  has  had  his  medicine  ?" 

"Yes."     He  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  Then  a  glass  of  water  that  has  been  boiled,  and 
put  in  a  i^inch — just  a  pinch,  of  cream  of  tartar."  And 
he  illustrated  the  pinch  with  his  slender  fingers. 

"  I  never  knew  a  case  of  a  man  living  on  after  the 
third  fit,"  said  a  German  with  his  heavy  accent  to  an 
aide-de-camp. 

"  He  was  a  wonderfully  strong  man,"  said  the  officer. 
"  Who  will  inherit  all  his  money  ?"  he  added  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Some  one  will  be  found  to  accept  it,"  said  the 
German  with  a  broad  smile. 

The  door  opened  again ;  it  was  the  young  princess, 
who  having  prepared  the  draught  was  going  into  her 
uncle's  room. 

The  German  went  to  Lorrain.  "  He  may  hang  on 
till  the  morning,"  he  said. 

Lorrain  puckered  up  his  lips  and  solemnly  shook  his 
forefinger. 

"  To-night  at  latest,"  he  said,  and  he  smiled  at  his 
own  superior  knowledge  which  enabled  him  to  prog- 
nosticate so  precisely  his  patient's  end. 


Prince  Basil  opened  the  door  of  the  eldest  princess's 
room.  It  was  almost  dark  there :  two  little  lamps  were 
burning  before  images  of  saints  and  exhaling  a  faint 


WAR  AND    PEACE.  II5 

scent  of  flowers  and  incense.  A  quantity  of  small  fur- 
niture— little  tables  and  cabinets  —  filled  up  the  room, 
and  a  very  high  bed  was  only  half-hidden  by  a  screen. 
A  little  dog  barked  as  the  prince  went  in. 

"Oh !  it  is  you,  Cousin."  She  rose,  smoothing  down 
the  bands  of  her  hair,  which  were  always  so  faultlessly 
tidy  and  shining  that  they  might  have  been  varnished  to 
her  skull. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  she  said.  ''  You  startlSd 
me." 

"  Nothing  new  — just  the  same.  But  I  came  to  talk 
business  with  you,  Catiche."  And  he  seated  himself 
wearily  in  the  chair  from  which  she  had  risen. 

"  How  hot  you  have  made  your  room  !  —  Well,  sit 
down  there,  and  let  us  talk." 

"  I  thought  something  must  have  happened." 

She  sat  down  facing  him,  ready  to  listen,  as  cold 
and  hard  as  ever.  "  I  was  trying  to  sleep  but  I  could 
not." 

"  Well,  my  dear  ?"  —  Prince  Basil  took  her  hand 
and  then  slowly  dropped  it  in  his  usual  manner.  His 
three  words  were  intended  to  cover  a  multitude  of 
meanings,  for  they  had  understood  each  other  with- 
out speaking.  The  princess  slowly  turned  her  expres- 
sionless, prominent  grey  eyes  and  fixed  them  on  him ; 
then  she  shook  her  head  and  gazed  at  the  images  with 
a  sigh.  The  gesture  might  convey  grief  and  resignation 
or  it  might  imply  fatigue  and  the  hope  of  an  early 
respite.     Prince  Basil  took  it  to  mean  this. 

"  And  do  you  suppose  I  do  not  feel  the  same  ?     I 


Il6  WAR  AND    PEACE. 

am  as  done  up  as  a  post-horse.  But  we  will  talk  all  the 
same,  and  seriously  if  you  will  have  the  goodness.  .  .  ." 

He  ceased,  and  his  cheeks  fell  in  with  a  disagreeable 
expression,  very  different  from  that  which  his  features 
usually  wore  in  company.  Impudence  and  fear  were 
legible  in  his  face. 

The  princess,  holding  her  little  dog  on  her  lap  with 
her  lean  bony  hands,  looked  at  him  steadily  in  the  si- 
lence, fully  determined  not  to  be  the  first  to  break  it  if 
it  were  to  last  all  night. 

"You  see,  my  dear  cousin  Princess  Catherine  Seme- 
novna,"  Prince  Basil  began  again  with  a  visible  effort,, 
"on  these  occasions  we  must  think  of  everything;  we 
must  think  of  the  future — of  your  future.  I  love  you 
all  three  as  my  own  daughters,  as  you  know  ....?" 

As  the  princess  sat  unmoved  and  impenetrable  he 
went  on  without  looking  at  her,  and  giving  the  little 
table  at  his  side  an  angry  push:  "You  know,  Caticlie,, 
that  you  three  and  my  wife  are  the  only  legal  heirs.  I 
quite  understand  how  painful  the  subject  must  be  to- 
you — and  to  me,  too,  I  can  assure  you;  but,  my  dear,  I 
am  past  fifty  and  we  must  think  of  everything.^ —  Do- 
you  know  I  have  had  to  send  for  Pierre  ?  The  count 
ordered  it  by  pointing  to  his  portrait  .  .  .  ." 

And  Prince  Basil  looked  up  at  her;  but  nothing  in 
her  face  indicated  that  she  had  heard  him — she  might 
have  been  thinking  of  nothing. 

"  I  never  cease  putting  up  fervent  prayers  to  God^ 
Cousin,  that  he  may  be  saved,  and  that  his  noble  soul 
may  take  its  flight  without  too  much  suffering." 


WAR  AND   PEACE.  II7 

"Yes,  yes,  of  course!"  said  the  prince,  and  he 
dragged  the  hapless  table  back  again  with  an  impulse 
of  rage.  "But,  after  all,  the  marrow  of  the  matter — 
you  know  very  well. —  The  count,  last  winter,  made  a 
will,  by  which  he  left  everything  to  Pierre,  setting  aside 
his  legitimate  heirs." 

"Oh!  he  has  made  so  many  wills,"  said  the  niece 
quite  calmly.  "And  at  any  rate,  he  cannot  make 
Pierre  his  heir,  for  Pierre  is  his  natural  son." 

"But  what  should  we  do,"  exclaimed  Prince  Basil, 
clutching  the  little  table  tightly  enough  to  break  it, 
"  what  could  we  do  if  the  count  had  left  a  letter  to  the 
Emperor,  petitioning  him  to  legitimize  this  son?  In 
consideration  of  the  count's  services,  it  might  perhaps 
be  donef 

The  lady  smiled  and  her  smile  seemed  to  say  that 
she  was  better  advised  in  the  matter  than  her  visitor. 

"I  can  tell  you  more:  such  a  letter  is  written  but 
not  yet  sent,  but  the  Emperor  knows  of  it.  The  point 
now  is  to  ascertain  whether  it  has  been  destroyed ;  if, 
on  the  contrary,  it  is  still  in  existence  —  then  —  when 
all  is  over,"  and  the  prince  sighed  to  explain  what  he 
meant  by  "  all  " —  "  the  count's  papers  will  be  searched 
for  the  will,  it  will  be  delivered  to  the  Emperor  with  the 
letter,  this  petition  will  be  granted,  and  Pierre  will  be 
heir  at  law,  to  everything." 

"  And  what  of  our  share  ?"  said  the  princess  with  a 
distinctly  sarcastic  accent,  fully  convinced  that  there 
was  nothing  to  fear. 

**  Why,  my  poor  Catiche,  it  is  as  clear  as  day.     He 


Il8  WAR  AND    PEACE. 

will  be  sole  heir,  you  will  not  get  a  kopek  .  .  .  Now  you 
ought  to  know  whether  the  will  and  the  letter  have 
been  destroyed  ?  If  he  has  forgotten  them,  where  are 
they  ?  In  that  case  we  must  take  possession  of  them 
for . . . ." 

**That  would  be  the  crowning  stroke!"  she  said  in- 
terrupting him  with  the  same  emphasis  and  expression. 
"  I  am  only  a  woman,  and  I  know  you  think  us  all 
fools.  But  I  am  sure  that  a  bastard  can  inherit  nothing. 
A  bastard !"  she  repeated,  as  if  the  word  contained  in 
itself  the  refutation  of  all  her  opponent's  arguments. 

"  You  do  not  choose  to  understand,  Catiche,  for 
you  are  sensible  enough.  If  the  count  succeeds  in  le- 
gitimizing him,  Pierre  will  be  Count  B6soukhow  and 
all  the  estate  will  be  his  by  right.  If  that  will  and 
letter  are  in  existence  all  that  you  will  get  will  be  the 
comfort  of  having  been  dutiful,  devoted,  etc.,  etc., — 
that  is  perfectly  certain." 

"  I  know  that  the  will  does  exist;  but  I  also  know 
that  it  is  illegal,  and  I  really  think  you  must  take  me 
for  an  idiot,"  replied  the  princess,  convinced  that  she 
had  been  severely  sharp. 

"  My  dear  Princess  Catharine,"  said  her  cousin  with 
undisguised  annoyance,  "  I  did  not  come  to  offend  you, 
but  to  talk  to  you  in  your  own  interest.  You  are  a 
very  friendly  and  amiable  relation,  and  for  the  tenth 
time  I  assure  you  that  if  the  will  and  the  letter  are 
found  among  the  count's  papers,  you  and  your  sisters 
cease  to  inherit.  If  you  do  not  believe  me,  ask  some 
expert.     I  have  just  been  talking  it  over  with  Dmitri 


WAR    AND   PEACE.  II9 

Onoufrievitch,  the  count's  man  of  business,  and  he  said 
the  same  thing." 

Light  suddenly  flashed  on  the  princess'  brain.  Her 
thin  Hps  turned  white,  but  her  eyes  remained  fixed, 
though  her  voice,  which  she  could  no  longer  control, 
betrayed  her  by  unexpected  bursts. 

"  That  will  be  delightful !  —  I  never  asked  for  any- 
thing and  I  will  accept  nothing !"  she  exclaimed  drop- 
ping the  lapdog  on  the  floor  and  patting  down  her 
skirts.  "  That  is  his  gratitude  and  aflection  for  those 
who  have  sacrificed  everything  to  him.  Bravo !  it  is 
perfect  in  its  way !     Happily  I  want  nothing.  Prince !" 

"  But  you  are  not  alone;  your  sisters  .  .  .  ." 

"  Oh,  yes !"  she  went  on  without  listening  to  him, 
"  I  have  known  it  a  long  time,  but  I  had  forgotten  it ; 
envy,  duplicity,  intrigue,  the  blackest  ingratitude  — 
that  was  what  I  might  have  looked  for  in  this  house. 
I  quite  understand ;  I  know  whom  to  thank  for  all  this 
intriguing." 

"  But  that  is  beside  the  mark,  my  dear  .  .  . ." 

"  It  is  your  protegee,  that  charming  Princess  Drou- 
betzkoi,  whom  I  would  not  take  for  a  waiting-maid  — 
a  base,  wicked  creature  !" 

"  Come,  come;  we  are  losing  time." 

"Ah!  let  me  be!  She  came  sneaking  in  here 
during  the  winter  and  told  the  count  all  sorts  of  horrible 
things,  shameful  things  about  us  all,  and  about  Sophie 
especially.  I  could  not  possibly  repeat  them  .  .  .  They 
made  the  count  quite  ill  and  he  would  not  let  us  go 
into  his  room  for  a  fortnight.     It  was  then   that  he 


I20  WAR  AND    PEACE. 

wrote  that  horrid  paper,  which  I  believed  to  be  worth- 
less." 

"  That  is  the  point. —  But  why  did  you  not  let  me 
know?     Where  is  it?" 

"  It  is  in  an  inlaid  note-case  that  he  always  keeps 
under  his  pillow ...  Yes,  it  was  her  doing;  and  if  I 
have  a  heavy  sin  on  my  conscience  it  is  my  hatred  for 
that  woman.  Why  did  she  come  sneaking  in  here! 
Oh !  the  day  will  come  yet  when  I  shall  speak  my 
mind  to  her !"  cried  the  princess,  quite  beside  herself. 

While  all  these  conversations  were  going  on.  Prince 
Basil's  carriage  was  returning  from  the  Rostows'  with 
Pierre  and  Princess  Droubetzkoi,  who  had  thought 
proper  to  accompany  him.  When  the  wheels  became 
noiseless  as  they  rolled  over  the  straw  spread  in  front  of 
the  Hotel  Besoukhow,  she  turned  to  her  companion 
with  some  cut-and-dried  speech  of  condolence,  but,  to 
her  great  surprise,  Pierre  was  asleep,  gently  lulled  by  the 
motion  of  the  carriage ;  she  roused  him,  and  as  he  fol- 
lowed her  the  idea  struck  him  for  the  first  time  that  he 
was  about  to  see  his  father  on  his  death-bed.  The  car- 
riage had  stopped  at  one  of  the  side  doors ;  as  he  got 
out,  two  men  in  black  shrank  hastily  into  the  shadow 
of  the  wall ;  there  were  others  about  who  seemed  anx- 
ious to  hide  themselves.  No  one  took  any  notice  of 
them.  "  I  suppose  it  is  all  right,"  said  Pierre  to  him- 
self, and  he  went  after  the  princess  who  hurried  up  the 
servant's  staircase.  He  wondered  why  she  had  chosen 
this  back  way  in,  why  she  had  come  to  see  the  count, 
and  what  could  be  the  use  of  it ;  but  his  guide's  confi- 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  121 

dent  and  rapid  movements  forced  him  again  to  the  con- 
clusion that  "  it  was  all  right." 

Half-way  up  they  ran  against  some  servants  who 
were  running  down  stairs  with  pails  of  water  and  who 
stood  back  against  the  wall  to  let  them  pass,  but  who 
did  not  seem  surprised  to  see  them  there. 

"  This  way,  is  it  not,  to  the  princesses'  rooms  ?" 
asked  Anna  Mikhailovna. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  man  to  whom  she  had  spoken ;  and 
he  answered  in  a  loud  voice,  as  if  the  time  had  come 
when  it  did  not  matter  what  liberties  were  taken.  "  It 
is  the  door  on  the  left." 

"  Perhaps  the  count  did  not  ask  for  me,"  said  Pierre 
when  they  stopped  on  the  landing.  "  I  would  rather  go 
straight  to  my  own  room." 

Anna  Mikhailovna  stood  waiting  for  him :  "  My 
dear  friend,"  she  said,  lightly  stroking  his  hand  as,  a  few 
hours  since  she  had  stroked  her  son's.  "  Believe  me,  I 
am  suffering  as  much  as  you  are.  —  But  be  a  man !" 

"  Really,  I  had  better  go  to  my  own  room."  And 
Pierre  looked  at  her  affectionately  over  his  spectacles. 

"  My  dear  boy,  forget  all  the  wrong  that  has  been 
done  you  —  remember  only  that  he  is  your  father,  and 
dying,"  and  she  sighed.  "  I  love  you  like  a  son ;  trust 
in  me  and  I  will  guard  your  interests." 

Pierre  did  not  in  the  least  understand,  but  he  said  to 
himself  once  more :  "  It  is  all  right  no  doubt,"  and 
followed  her. 

The  princess  opened  a  door  and  went  into  a  little 
anteroom.     An  old  man-servant  attending  on  the  prin- 


122  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

cesses  was  sitting  in  a  corner,  knitting  a  stocking. 
Pierre  had  never  been  in  this  part  of  the  house  before. 
Anna  Mikhailovna  enquired  of  a  maid  —  on  whom  she 
lavished  "my  good  girl"  and  "my  child"  —  how  the 
ladies  were.  The  girl,  who  was  carrying  a  bottle  of 
water  on  a  tray,  went  on  down  a  paved  passage,  and 
the  princess  followed  at  her  heels.  The  first  door  on  the 
left  was  that  of  the  Princess  Catharine's  room.  In  her 
haste  the  maid  left  the  door  ajar  as  she  went  in,  and 
Pierre  and  his  guide  involuntarily  looking  in,  discovered 
the  lady  and  Prince  Basil  talking  together.  As  he  caught 
sight  of  the  new  arrivals  the  prince  threw  himself 
back  in  his  chair,  evidently  much  provoked,  while  Prin- 
cess Catiche  flew  at  the  door  and  slammed  it  in  their 
faces.  This  burst  of  rage,  so  unlike  her  usual  calm 
demeanor,  and  the  dismay  and  vexation  betrayed  by 
Prince  Basil  were  so  strange  that  Pierre  stopped  short, 
and  looked  enquiringly  at  his  companion ;  the  worthy 
lady,  who  did  not  share  in  his  astonishment,  answered 
with  a  sigh  and  a  smile : 

"Be  a  man,  my  dear  boy;  I  will  guard  your  inter- 
ests," and  Anna  Mikhailovna  went  on  faster. 

"I  will  guard  your  interests."  —  What  did  she 
mean  ?  Pierre  could  not  imagine.  "  But  it  is  all  right 
no  doubt,"  he  thought. 

The  corridor  opened  into  the  great  dim  drawing- 
room  adjoining  the  count's  bedroom  which  Pierre  knew 
from  havmg  crossed  it  whenever  he  came  in  by  the 
front  staircase.  This  room  though  splendid  was  gloomy. 
A  bath  had  been  left  there  and  forgotten;  the  water  was 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  1 23 

leaking  out  of  it  drop  by  drop,  and  soaking  into  the  car- 
pet. A  servant,  and  a  sacristan  carrying  a  censer  came 
towards  the  new-comers,  whom  they  did  not  notice. 
On  one  side  the  room  opened  on  to  a  conservatory,  on 
the  other  it  was  Hghted  by  two  enormous  French  win- 
dows; a  marble  bust  and  a  full-length  portrait  of  the 
Empress  Catharine  were  its  chief  adornments.  The 
persons  we  have  already  seen  there  were  still  whisper- 
ing and  muttering  together  in  the  same  attitudes. 

As  Anna  Mikhailovna  went  in  all  were  silent  and 
turned  to  look  at  her  pale,  tear-stained  face,  and  at  tall, 
burly  Pierre  who  followed  her  with  his  head  down.  She 
knew  that  the  critical  moment  had  come  and  her  face 
plainly  showed  that  she  knew  it.  She  stood  the  fire  of 
their  inquisitive  eyes  with  the  calm  assurance  of  a  St. 
Petersburger,  hardened  to  the  pressure  of  circum- 
stances. She  was  protected  in  fact  by  the  presence  of 
her  companion,  since  the  count  had  asked  for  him. 
Without  an  instant's  hesitation  she  went  straight  up  to 
the  count's  confessor,  and  bowing  her  head  without  any 
excess  of  humility,  she  respectfully  craved  his  blessing; 
then,  with  equal  reverence  she  turned  to  the  other  priest. 

"  Thank  God  we  are  in  time  !  We  were  so  much 
afraid  ...  It  is  the  count's  son.  What  a  fearful  moment!" 
she  murmured,  and  then  she  turned  to  the  doctor  : 

"  Dear  Sir,  this  is  Count  Besoukhow's  son ;  is  there 
any  hope  ?" 

The  doctor  cast  up  his  eyes  to  heaven  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders.  Anna  Mikhailovna  imitated  his  gestures 
and  covered  her  face   with  her  hand;  then,   turning 


124 


WAR   AND   PEACE. 


from  him  with  a  deep  sigh,  she  approached  Pierre,  her 
face  expressing  a  significant  combination  of  respect, 
afifection,  and  pathos. 

"  Put  your  trust  in  His  mercies !"  she  said,  and 
she  pointed  to  a  Httle  sofa  where  she  desired  him  to  be 
seated;  then  she  noiselessly  went  to  the  mysterious 
door  which  was  the  centre  of  attention,  opened  it  softly 
and  vanished. 

Pierre,  who  had  made  up  his  mind  to  obey  her  im- 
plicitly, sat  down  on  the  little  sofa,  and  noted  with  some 
surprise  that  he  was  an  object  of  curiosity  rather  than 
interest.  He  was  pointed  at  and  whispered  about,  and 
the  cause,  it  would  seem,  of  some  alarm  with  a  certain  ser- 
vility. He  was  treated  with  a  degree  of  respect  to  which 
he  was  not  accustomed,  and  the  unknown  lady  who 
was  talking  to  the  two  priests  rose  to  offer  him  her  seat; 
an  aide-de-camp  picked  up  his  glove  which  he  had 
dropped  and  handed  it  to  him ;  the  doctors  were  silent 
and  made  way  for  him  to  pass.  His  first  impulse  was 
to  refuse  the  seat  for  fear  of  disturbing  the  lady,  to  pick 
up  his  own  glove,  to  keep  out  of  the  doctors'  way — not 
that  they  were  in  his ;  but  then  it  struck  him  that  it 
might  not  be  the  right  thing :  that  he  had  suddenly  be- 
come a  person  of  importance,  that  something  was 
expected  of  him  in  the  course  of  this  mysterious  and 
melancholy  night  and  that  he  was  bound  to  accept  the 
services  offered  to  him.  So  he  silently  took  the  glove 
from  the  aide-de-camp,  and  seated  himself  in  the  lady's 
place,  laying  his  hands  square  on  his  knees  with  the 
simple  formality  of  an  Egyptian  statue ;  fully  determined 


WAR    AND   PEACE.  1 25 

to  follow  the  guiding  of  other  people's  wills  rather  than 
his  own  impulses,  so  as  not  to  compromise  himself  in 
any  way. 

Not  two  minutes  later  Prince  Basil  came  in,  his 
head  erect,  in  his  long  frock-coat  with  three  stars  blazing 
on  his  breast,  a  majestic  personage.  He  seemed  to  have 
grown  suddenly  thin  ;  his  eyes  opened  wide  at  the  sight 
of  Pierre.  He  took  his  hand  —  which  he  had  never 
done  before  —  and  slowly  dropped  it  as  if  he  were  test- 
ing its  power  of  resistance. 

"  Courage,  courage,  my  boy  .  .  .  He  asked  for  you, 
and  that  is  well." 

And  he  was  leaving  him  when  Pierre  thought  he 
ought  to  make  some  enquiry:  "How  is  he  —  how 
is.  .  .  ."  And  he  paused  in  confusion,  not  knowing  how 
to  call  the  count  his  father. 

<^  He  had  another  stroke  half  an  hour  since.  Be 
brave,  my  dear  fellow,  he  is  hard  hit." 

Pierre's  mind  was  so  utterly  dazed  that  he  fancied 
that  the  dying  man  had  been  hit  by  some  one,  and  he 
stared  at  Prince  Basil  in  dismay.  The  prince,  after 
exchanging  a  few  words  with  Dr.  Lorrain,  stole  on  tip- 
toe into  the  bedroom  ;  he  was  followed  by  the  Princess 
Catharine,  by  the  priests  and  the  servants  of  the  house- 
hold. There  was  a  stir  in  the  chamber  of  death  and 
Anna  Mikhailovna,  pale  but  resolute  in  the  performance 
of  a  duty,  came  out  to  fetch  Pierre. 

"  The  mercies  of  the  Lord  are  without  end,"  she 
^aid.  "  The  sacrament  of  extreme  unction  is  about  to 
be  administered.     Come." 


126  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

He  rose  and  noticed  that  everyone  present,  including 
the  strange  lady  and  the  aide-de-camp,  followed  him 
into  the  bedroom. 

No  precautions  were  needed  now. 

Pierre  was  well  acquainted  with  this  great  bedroom. 
An  alcove  was  divided  off  by  columns  and  it  was  hung 
in  eastern  fashion,  with  tapestry  and  curtains.  Within  the 
columns  stood  an  immense  and  very  high  mahogany  bed- 
stead with  heavy  curtains  and  opposite  was  a  niche  with 
glass  over  it,  containing  the  holy  images  and  lighted  up 
like  a  chapel  for  the  sacred  ceremony.  In  front  of  this 
niche,  in  a  large,  deep  arm-chair,  lay,  rather  than  sat 
Count  Besoukhow,  a  stately  and  majestic  figure  covered 
to  the  waist  with  a  silk  quilt,  and  propped  on  snowy 
pillows.  A  mass  of  strong  grey  hair,  like  a  lion's 
mane,  and  the  deep  wrinkles  of  his  face  threw  his 
noble  and  handsome  features,  now  as  pale  as  wax,  into 
high  relief.  His  hands,  which  were  large  and  powerful, 
lay  lifeless  on  the  coverlet ;  between  his  right  finger  and 
thumb  a  taper  had  been  placed  which  was  held  upright 
by  an  old  servant  who  leaned  over  his  master's  chair. 
The  priests  and  deacons,  with  their  long  hair  falling 
over  their  shoulders,  and  their  rich  vestments,  were  de- 
liberately fulfilling  their  functions,  carrying  lighted 
tapers  in  their  hands.  In  the  background  stood  the 
princesses,  the  two  younger  ones  with  their  handker- 
chiefs to  their  eyes,  a  little  behind  Catiche  with  her  im- 
passible face,  who  seemed  to  fear  that  if  she  once  took 
her  eyes  from  the  holy  images  she  could  no  longer  be 
mistress  of  her  feelings.  Princess  Droubetzkoi's  face  wore 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


127 


an  expression  of  calm  sorrow  and  unbounded  forgive- 
ness as  she  stood  leaning  against  the  door,  by  the  side 
of  the  strange  lady.  Prince  Basil,  who  was  opposite  to 
her  and  quite  close  to  the  dying  man,  held  a  taper  in 
his  left  hand,  leaning  his  elbows  on  the  back  of  a 
carved  chair  covered  with  velvet,  and  he  cast  up  his 
eyes  to  heaven  every  time  he  crossed  his  forehead  with 
his  right.  His  expression  was  one  of  pious  resignation 
and  utter  submission  to  the  will  of  the  Almighty: 
"  Woe  unto  you  who  cannot  rise  to  the  height  of  my 
sentiments  !"  he  seemed  to  say. 

Behind  him  stood  the  medical  attendants,  and  all 
the  household,  the  men  on  one  side  and  the  women  on 
the  other,  as  if  they  were  in  church,  all  silent  and  cross- 
ing themselves  diligently.  There  was  not  a  sound  but 
the  hum  of  the  officiating  priests  and  the  steady  chant 
of  the  choir.  Now  and  then  some  one  sighed  or  moved 
a  little. 

Suddenly  Princess  Droubetzkoi  crossed  the  room 
and  with  the  resolute  manner  of  a  woman  who  knows 
very  well  what  she  is  about,  she  handed  a  taper  to 
Pierre.  He  took  it,  lighted  it,  and  then,  absorbed  in 
his  own  reflections,  crossed  himself  with  the  hand  in 
which  he  held  it. 

Sophie,  the  youngest  of  the  princesses,  the  one  with 
the  "  beauty-spot  "  watched  him  and  smiled.  Then  she 
hid  her  face  again  in  her  handkerchief  and  stood  so  for 
some  minutes ;  but  after  glancing  again  at  Pierre,  she 
felt  she  could  no  longer  keep  her  countenance  and 
crept  away  behind  one  of  the  columns. 


128  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

In  the  middle  of  the  service  there  was  a  sud- 
den pause;  the  priests  whispered  together;  the  old 
man  who  held  up  the  count's  taper  straightened 
himself  and  turned  to  the  ladies.  Anna  Mikhail- 
ovna  went  forward  at  once,  and  leaning  over  the 
sufferer  she  beckoned  to  Dr.  Lorrain  without  looking  up 
at  him.  The  doctor,  was  standing  with  his  back  to  a 
column  in  an  attitude  of  reverent  attention  that  con- 
veyed his  appreciation  of  the  importance  of  the  sacra- 
ment in  spite  of  his  foreign  birth  and  difference  of 
creed;  he  came  softly  to  the  count's  side  and  with  his 
slender  fingers  raised  the  hand  that  lay  on  the  coverlet; 
he  felt  the  pulse  and  seemed  lost  in  calculations.  There 
was  a  little  bustle,  the  dying  man's  lips  were  moistened 
with  a  cordial,  then  all  returned  to  their  places  and  the 
ceremony  proceeded.  During  this  interruption  Pierre 
had  been  watching  Prince  Basil,  and  he  saw  him  leave 
his  chair  and  go  up  to  Princess  Catiche ;  then,  both  to- 
gether had  gone  to  the  back  of  the  alcove,  round  by 
the  head  of  the  big  bed,  and  out  of  a  little  door  in  the 
wall. 

Before  the  service  was  ended  they  were  in  their 
places  again. 

This  manoeuvre  did  not  excite  Pierre's  curiosity,  for 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  that  everything  that  might 
happen  was  but  natural  and  a  matter  of  course. 

The  chanting  ceased,  and  the  drone  of  the  priest 
who  was  offering  respectful  congratulations  to  the  dying 
man  —  but  he  lay  there  speechless  and  motionless. 
Then  the  stir  began  again  :  steps  and  whispering,  and 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  1 29 

above  all  the  rest  the  loud  whisper  of  Anna  Mikhail- 
ovna.  Pierre  heard  her  say :  "  He  must  positively  be 
put  into  bed  again,  or  else  .  .  .  ." 

The  doctors,  princesses  and  servants  were  crowding 
round  the  count  and  hid  him  from  Pierre,  but  that  sal- 
low face  with  its  tangle  of  hair  was  still  before  his  eyes 
as  it  had  been  ever  since  he  came  in.  He  understood 
that  they  were  carefully  lifting  the  count  to  carry  him 
to  bed.  ''  Here,  take  hold  of  my  arm,  you  will  let  him 
fall !"  exclaimed  a  servant  in  alarm. 

"His  feet — make  haste!  —  one  more!"  said  an- 
other. 

And  from  their  hard  breathing  and  shuffling  steps  it 
was  easy  to  guess  what  a  weight  they  had. to  carry. 
They  pushed  by  the  young  man  and  for  an  instant,  in 
the  middle  of  the  group  of  bent  heads,  he  caught  sight 
of  the  sufferer's  broad  deep  chest,  his  shoulders,  off 
which  the  clothes  had  slipped,  and  his  leonine  head 
with  its  mane  of  curls.  The  face  with  its  unusually 
wide  brow,  strong  cheek-bones,  well-cut  lips,  and  cold, 
impressive  gaze  was  not  yet  disfigured  by  death;  it  was 
the  same  that  Pierre  had  seen  three  months  ago  when 
his  father  had  sent  him  to  St.  Petersburg.  But  now  it 
rolled  heavily  as  the  men  walked  with  an  unequal  step, 
and  the  fixed  eyes  had  no  speculation. 

After  a  few  minutes  bustle  round  the  bed  the  ser- 
vants withdrew.  Anna  Mikhailovna  lightly  touched 
Pierre  :  "  Come,"  she  said. 

He  obeyed.  The  sick  man,  propped  half-sitting  on 
a  pile  of  pillows,  had  been  placed  in  a  formal  attitude  in 

yd  I.  9 


130  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

honor  of  the  sacrament  that  had  just  been  administered. 
His  hands  were  spread  out  on  the  green  silk  counter- 
pane and  he  stared  in  front  of  him  with  that  vague  far- 
seeing  look  which  no  one  can  follow  or  understand ; 
had  he  nothing,  or  had  he  everything  to  say  ?  Pierre 
stood  still,  not  knowing  what  to  do ;  he  turned  to  his 
companion  who,  by  an  almost  imperceptible  gesture, 
suggested  to  him  that  he  should  kiss  the  dying  man's 
hand.  Pierre  bent  very  gently  over  the  bed  so  as  not 
to  touch  the  coverlet  and  his  lips  touched  the  count's 
broad,  heavy  hand. 

Not  a  muscle  of  it  quivered,  not  a  sign  was  visible 
on  the  face;  nothing  —  nothing  responded  to  this  light 
contact.  Pierre,  still  doubtful,  again  referred  to  the 
princess  who  signed  to  him  to  sit  down  in  the  arm-chair 
at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  He  sat  down,  still  watching  her 
face,  and  she  nodded  that  that  was  right.  Feeling 
more  sure  of  his  position  he  resumed  the  Egyptian  atti- 
tude, evidently  hampered  by  his  own  clumsiness,  and 
making  every  effort  to  fill  as  small  a  space  as  possible, 
while  he  kept  his  eyes  on  the  face  of  the  dying  count. 
Anna  Mikhailovna  also  watched  him  narrowly,  with  a 
strong  conviction  of  the  importance  of  this  last,  pa- 
thetic meeting  of  father  and  son. 

Two  minutes,  which  to  Pierre  seemed  an  age,  had 
hardly  elapsed  when  the  count's  face  was  suddenly  and 
violendy  distorted  by  a  convulsion,  his  mouth  was  drawn 
on  one  side  and  his  breathing  became  stertorous  and 
difficult.  To  Pierre  this  was  the  first  omen  of  approach- 
ing death;  Princess  Droubetzkoi  watched  the  sufferer's 


WAR   AND   PEACE.  13I 

eyes  to  guess  what  his  wishes  might  be.  She  pointed 
in  turn  to  Pierre,  to  the  cup  of  ptisan,  to  Prince  Basil, 
to  the  counterpane  ...  all  in  vain,  and  a  flash  of  irrita- 
tion lighted  up  tlie  dim  eyes  which  seemed  to  want  to 
attract  the  attention  of  the  valet  who  was  standing  mo- 
tionless at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

"  He  wants  to  be  turned  over,"  said  the  man,  pro- 
ceeding to  move  his  master.  Pierre  helped  him  and 
they  had  succeeded  in  turning  him  when  one  of  his 
hands  fell  back  heavily  in  spite  of  his  efforts  to  raise 
it.  Did  he  see  the  look  of  dismay  that  passed  into 
Pierre's  troubled  face  at  the  sight  of  the  paralyzed  limb, 
or  did  some  other  idea  dawn  on  his  brain  ?  Who  can 
tell?  He  looked  first  at  the  helpless  arm  and  then  at 
his  son's  awed  face,  and  a  dull,  lifeless  smile,  appalling 
at  such  a  moment,  fluttered  over  his  lips.  It  was  as 
though  he  were  retorting  with  ironical  pity  on  the  grad- 
ual and  growing  extinction  of  all  his  powers. 

This  unlooked-for  smile  was  a  shock  of  pain  to 
Pierre;  he  had  a  sharp  cramp  about  his  heart,  his 
throat  swelled  and  the  tears  started  to  his  eyes.  The 
sick  man,  who  had  been  laid  down  with  his  face  to  the 
wall,  sighed  deeply. 

"He  is  asleep,"  said  Anna  Mikha'ilovna  to  one  of 
the  nieces  who  returned  to  her  watch.     "  Come  . . .  ." 

And  Pierre  followed  her. 

There  was  no  one  now  in  the  drawing-room  but 
Prince  Basil  and  Princess  Catiche,  sitting  under  the 
portrait  of  the  empress  and  talking  eagerly;  they  broke 
off  suddenly  as  Pierre  went  in,  and  he  could  not  help 

9  * 


32 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


seeing  that  Princess  Catiche  seemed  to  be  hiding  some- 
thing. 

"I  cannot  meet  that  woman,"  she  murmured,  as 
she  saw  Princess  Droubetzkoi. 

"  Catiche  has  had  tea  brought  up  into  the  Httle  draw- 
ing-room," said  Prince  Basil  to  Anna  Mikhailovna.  "Go, 
go,  my  poor  friend,  and  eat  a  mouthful  or  you  will 
break  down  ..."  And  he  gave  Pierre's  arm  a  silent 
and  affectionate  pressure. 

"There  is  nothing  so  reviving  as  a  cup  of  this  capi- 
tal Russian  tea  after  a  wakeful  night,"  said  Dr.  Lorrain, 
slowly  sipping  the  hot  liquid  from  a  cup  of  old  oriental 
china."  He  was  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  little 
drawing-room,  in  front  of  a  table  on  which  tea  and 
some  cold  refreshments  had  been  laid  out. 

All  those  who  had  spent  the  night  in  the  house  were 
now  collected  in  this  room  where  the  walls  were  almost 
entirely  covered  by  mirrors  and  the  furniture  was  chiefly 
gilded  consoles.  This  had  been  Pierre's  favorite  nook 
on  the  occasions  of  the  count's  grand  balls,  for  he  could 
not  dance,  and  he  liked  to  sit  in  here  alone  and  take 
note  of  the  ladies  who  would  come  in  their  elegant 
freshness,  all  sparkling  with  diamonds  and  pearls  to  see 
their  dazzHng  figures  reflected  in  the  looking-glasses. 
At  this  moment  the  room  was  barely  lighted  by  two 
wax-candles;  on  a  table  set  all  askew  was  a  disorderly 
array  of  plates  and  cups;  and  there  were  no  ball- 
dresses,  but  strangely  mixed  groups  of  persons  of  every 
degree  stood  talking  in  undertones,  while  every  word, 
every  gesture,  betrayed  that  the  one  subject  of  their 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  1 33 

thoughts  was  the  solemn  mystery  that  was  going  for- 
ward in  the  alcove  of  that  state-bedroom.  Pierre  v/as 
hungry,  but  he  would  not  eat.  He  looked  round  for 
his  companion  and  saw  her  steal  away  into  the  big 
drawing-room  where  they  had  left  Prince  Basil  and  the 
eldest  princess.  Thinking  he  ought  to  follow  her  he 
did  so,  and  found  her  at  high  words  with  Catiche. 

"  Allow  me,  Madam,  to  decide  what  is  and  what  is 
not  necessary,"  said  Catiche  in  a  tone  of  irritation 
which  was  a  survival  of  the  wrath  in  which  she  had 
slammed  the  door. 

"  Dear  Princess,"  said  Anna  Mikhailovna  sweetly, 
but  standing  in  her  path.  "  It  would  I  am  afraid  be 
too  painful  to  your  uncle;  at  this  moment  he  is  so 
much  in  need  of  rest  .  .  .  and  to  discuss  worldly  mat- 
ters when  his  soul  has  been  prepared.  ..." 

Prince  Basil,  buried  in  an  arm-chair  with  his  legs 
crossed  as  ;tisual,  seemed  to  be  paying  very  little  atten- 
tion to  t^is  colloquy,' but  the  quivering  of  his  cheeks, 
which  twitched  incessantly,  betrayed  some  strongly- 
controlled  emotion. 

"  Come,  my  good  Princess,  let  Catiche  do  as  she 
likes.     The  count  is  so  fond  of  her  you  see.  .  .  ." 

"  I  do  not  even  know  what  is  in  it,"  Catiche  went 
on,  turning  to  Prince  Basil  and  holding  up  the  inlaid 
note-case  which  she  held  with  a  nervous  clutch.  "  All 
I  know  is  that  his  will  is  in  his  desk.  There  is  nothing 
in  this  but  some  papers  that  he  has  forgotten.  .  .  ."  And 
she  tried  to  pass  Anna  Mikhailovna  who,  with  a  spring, 
again  stood  before  her. 


134  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

"I  know  that,  my  dear,  good  Princess,"  she  said,  and 
she  grabbed  at  the  note-case  with  a  grasp  that  showed 
her  firm  determination  not  to  let  go.  "  My  dear  Princess, 
I  entreat  you  be  judicious  with  him."  The  two  ladies 
fairly  wrestled  for  the  possession  of  the  note-case. 
Catiche  simply  held  on  without  a  word ;  but  it  was  very 
evident  that  a  flood  of  abuse  was  pent  behind  her 
tightly  set  lips,  while  her  enemy's  tones  were  as  calm 
and  sugared  as  ever,  in  spite  of  the  obstinacy  of  the 
struggle. 

"  Pierre,  my  dear,  come  here,"  cried  Anna  Mikhail- 
ovna.  "  He  will  not  be  in  the  way  in  this  family 
council,  will  he,  Prince  ?...." 

*' Why,  Cousin,  do  you  not  answer?"  said  Catiche. 
**  Why  are  you  so  silent,  when  God  only  knows  who 
comes  meddling  in  our  private  affinrs,  not  even  respect- 
ing the  chamber  of  death  ?  .  .  .  Intriguing  creature  !"  she 
added  in  a  low  growl,  and  she  gave  the  note-case  a 
sharp  pull. 

The  violence  of  the  action  staggered  Anna  Mik- 
ha'ilovna,  who  was  dragged  forward;  but  she  did  not 
relax  her  hold. 

"  Oh !"  groaned  Prince  Basil  reprovingly,  and  he 
rose. 

"  Come,  this  is  preposterous,"  he  said.  "  Leave  go,  I 
tell  you." 

Catiche  obeyed ;  but  as  her  adversary  still  kept  the 
object  of  dispute.  "  Do  you  give  it  up  too,"  he  added. 
"  1  will  take  the  whole  responsibility — I  will  ask  him. — 
Will  that  satisfy  you  ?" 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


135 


''  But  surely,  after  such  a  solemn  sacrament,  you 
will  give  him  a  moment's  respite  ?"  said  Anna  Mikhail- 
ovna.  "  What  do  you  think  ?"  she  added  turning  to 
Pierre  who  was  gazing  in  dismay  at  Catiche's  flaming 
face  and  Prince  Basil's  twitching  lips. 

"  Remember  that  you  are  responsible  for  the  conse- 
quences," he  said;  "you  know  not  what  you  are 
doing." 

"  Odious  wretch !"  cried  Catiche,  suddenly  flying  at 
her  and  snatching  away  the  note-case.  The  prince 
hung  his  head  and  his  arms  fell  by  his  side. 

At  this  instant,  the  mysterious  door  which  had  so 
often  been  opened  and  shut  with  noiseless  care  in  the 
course  of  this  long  night  was  flung  open  and  the  count's 
second  niece  rushed  into  the  midst  of  them,  her  hands 
clasped  and  half-crazy  with  terror. 

"  What  are  you  about  ?"  she  cried  desperately,  "  he 
is  dying  and  you  leave  me  alone  with  him  !" 

Catiche  dropped  the  note-case ;  the  princess  threw 
herself  upon  it,  picked  it  up  and  fled.  Prince  Basil 
and  Catiche  when  they  had  got  over  their  amaze- 
ment followed  her  into  the  bedroom.  Catiche  came 
out  again  in  a  minute  or  two ;  her  face  was  white,  her 
features  set  and  her  underJip  very  pinched.  As  she 
caught  sight  of  Pierre,  her  spite  broke  out : 

"  Oh  yes !  play  the  farce  out  ...  It  is  what  you  ex- 
pected. .  ,  ."  But  sobs  checked  her  utterance;  she 
covered  her  face  and  went  away. 

Presently  Prince  Basil  also  returned.  He  made  his 
way  to  the  sofa  where   Pierre  was  sitting,  and   had 


136  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

hardly  reached  it  when  he  dropped  on  it  as  if  he  were 
going  to  faint;  his  face  was  ghastly,  his  jaw  trembled 
and  his  teeth  chattered  as  if  he  had  an  ague. 

"  Oh !  my  dear  fellow  !"  he  exclaimed  and  he  seized 
Pierre  by  the  arm.  Pierre  was  startled  by  the  earnest 
ring  of  sincerity  in  his  voice  which  was  faint  and  weak: 
it  was  quite  a  new  thing  in  the  prince.  "  We  sin,  we 
cheat,  and  all  for  what  ?  I  am  past  sixty,  my  dear 
boy  .  .  .  and  death  is  the  end  of  it  all.  .  .  .  Death !  hor- 
rible, horrible !"    And  he  burst  into  tears. 

Anna  Mikhailovna  soon  made  her  appearance,  too ; 
she  came  slowly  and  solemnly  up  to  Pierre. 

"  Pierre !"  she  murmured.  He  looked  up  at  her ; 
she  bent  down  and  kissed  his  forehead,  her  eyes  were 
full  of  tears : 

"  He  is  dead !"  but  Pierre  only  looked  at  her  over 
his  spectacles. 

"  Come  —  I  will  take  you  away.  —  But  try  to  shed 
tears,  nothing  gives  so  much  comfort." 

She  led  him  away  into  a  dark  room  and  as  he  went 
in  Pierre  felt  the  immense  relief  of  finding  himself  no 
longer  an  object  of  curiosity.  Anna  Mikhailovna  left 
him  there,  and  when  she  came  back  to  look  for  him  she 
found  him  fast  asleep,  with  his  head  on  his  hand. 

Next  day  she  said  to  him : 

"  Ah,  my  dear  friend,  it  is  a  terrible  loss  for  us  all.  I 
am  not  speaking  of  you ;  God  will  give  you  strength ; 
you  are  young  and  the  master  of  a  colossal  fortune. 
The  will  has  not  yet  been  opened,  but  I  know  you  well 
enough  to  feel  sure  that  this  will  not  turn  your  head : 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  1 37 

but  you  will  have  new  duties  to  fulfil  and  you  must  be 
a  man." 

Pierre  said  nothing.  "  One  day  perhaps  —  by-and- 
bye,  I  will  tell  you  the  whole  story  ...  In  short,  if  I 
liad  not  been  there,  God  knows  what  might  have  hap- 
])ened !  My  uncle  had  promised  me,  only  the  day  be- 
fore, not  to  forget  Boris,  but  then  he  had  no  time  to 
attend  to  that.  I  hope,  my  dear  fellow,  that  you  will 
carry  out  your  father's  wishes." 

Pierre,  who  had  no  idea  of  what  she  was  driving  at, 
did  not  answer  but  colored  deeply  and  looked  awk- 
ward. 

After  the  old  count's  death  Princess  Droubetzkoi 
returned  to  the  Rostows'  house  to  rest  a  little  after  her 
fatigues.  No  sooner  was  she  up  again  next  day  than 
she  related  to  all  her  friends  and  acquaintances  the 
minutest  details  of  that  eventful  night. 

"  The  count,"  she  said,  "  had  died  as  she  herself 
hoped  to  die  .  .  ."  His  end  was  most  edifying,  and  the 
last  interview  between  the  father  and  son  so  touching 
that  she  could  not  think  of  it  without  emotion.  She 
really  did  not  know  which  of  the  two  had  been  the 
more  admirable  during  those  solemn  moments  of  part- 
ing—  the  father,  who  had  a  word  for  every  one,  and 
who  w^as  so  pathetically  tender  to  his  son,  or  the  son 
who,  though  overwhelmed  and  broken  with  grief, 
had  struggled  to  master  his  feehngs  before  his  dying 
father.  .  .  .  Such  scenes  wring  one's  heart,  but  they 
doit  good:  "It  elevates  the  soul  to  see  such  men  as 
those  suffer !"  she  added.     Then  she  reported  and  criti- 


138  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

cised  the  proceedings  of  Prince  Basil  and  Princess 
Catiche,  but  in  a  whisper,  in  her  Hstener's  ear,  and 
under  the  seal  of  absolute  secrecy. 


CHAPTER  X. 

At  Lissy-Gory,  the  residence  of  Prince  Nicolas  An- 
dreevitch  Bolkonsky,  young  Prince  Andre  and  his  wife 
were  daily  expected;  but  this  did  not  in  any  way  affect 
the  plan  of  life  laid  down  by  the  old  prince,  who  had 
been  nicknamed  by  some  who  knew  him  well  "the 
King  of  Prussia."  He  had  been  commander-in-chief 
under  the  Emperor  Paul,  but  was  banished  by  him  to 
his  estate  of  Lissy-Gory,  where  he  had  led  a  secluded 
life  ever  since,  with  his  daughter  Marie  and  her  paid 
companion.  Mile.  Bourrienne.  The  accession  of  a  new 
emperor  had  unlocked  the  gates  of  exile,  and  left  him  free 
to  live  in  either  of  the  capitals;  but  he  obstinately  refused 
to  leave  his  own  domain,  declaring,  to  all  who  cared  to 
hear  it,  that  those  who  wanted  to  see  him  could  very 
well  travel  the  fifty  versts  that  divided  him  from  Mos- 
cow, l)ut  that  for  his  part  he  wanted  nothing  and  no- 
body. 

The  vices  of  the  human  race,  he  asserted,  had  their 
origin  solely  in  two  causes:  in  idleness  and  in  supersti- 
tion; consequendy  he  recognized  only  two  virtues:  en- 
ergy  and  intelligence,  and  he  himself  undertook    his 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  139 

daughter's  education  with  a  view  to  developing  these 
two  qualities  in  her,  to  the  utmost.  Up  to  the  age  of 
twenty  she  had  studied  mathematics  and  algebra  under 
his  tuition,  and  her  day  had  always  been  methodically 
spent  in  regular  and  consistent  employment. 

He  himself  was  writing  his  memoirs,  he  solved 
mathematical  problems,  turned  snuff-boxes  on  a  lathe, 
worked  in  his  garden  and  superintended  the  construc- 
tion of  the  buildings  on  his  estate;  and  this  gave  him 
plenty  to  do,  for  the  property  was  extensive  and  build- 
ing was  always  going  on. 

Down  to  the  very  moment  of  his  appearance  in  the 
dining-room,  which  was  always  at  the  same  hour,  or 
rather  at  the  same  minute,  his  whole  life  was  regulated 
with  the  most  absolute  precision.  He  was  sharp  and 
exacting  to  the  last  degree  with  everyone  he  had  to  do 
with,  including  his  daughter;  thus,  without  being  cruel, 
he  commanded  an  amount  of  submission  and  fear  that 
a  really  brutal  man  would  have  found  it  difficult  to  ob- 
tain. Notwithstanding  his  secluded  hfe,  and  though 
he  had  no  official  interest,  all  the  dignitaries  of  the 
province  in  which  he  resided  made  it  a  point  of  duty  to 
pay  their  respects  to  him,  and  carried  their  deference 
so  far  as  to  await  his  appearance  in  the  great  hall,  as 
his  daughter  did  too,  with  the  gardener  and  the  builder. 
And  the  same  mixed  feeling  of  respect  and  fear  came 
over  them  all  when  the  heavy  door  of  his  private  room 
slowly  opened  and  the  little  old  man  came  out,  with 
his  powdered  wig,  his  slender  withered  hands,  and  his 
thick   grizzled  eyebrows,  which  sometimes  seemed  ta 


140  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

soften  the  keen  glitter  of  eyes  that  still  were  almost 
youthful. 

On  the  morning  of  the  day  when  the  young  couple 
were  expected  Princess  Marie  crossed  the  hall,  accord- 
ing to  invariable  rule,  to  go  and  bid  her  father  good- 
morning;  and,  as  usual,  at  that  critical  moment,  she 
could  not  help  feeling  a  pang  of  agitation,  so  to  give 
herself  courage  she  crossed  herself  and  put  up  a  little 
prayer  that  their  meeting  might  pass  off  without  squalls. 
The  old,  powdered  man-servant  who  always  sat  in  the 
hall  rose  at  her  approach  and  said  in  a  subdued  voice: 
^'Have  the  goodness  to  go  in." 

The  steady  whir  of  a  turning-lathe  was  audible 
within;  the  princess  timidly  opened  the  door,  which 
made  no  noise  on  its  hinges,  and  stood  still  in  the  door- 
way; the  prince  was  at  work.  He  looked  round  at  her 
and  then  went  on  again. 

The  room  was  full  of  furniture  and  articles  of  daily 
use.  A  large  table  was  piled  with  maps  and  books, 
there  were  cupboards  with  glass  doors  and  keys  in  the 
locks,  a  tall  desk  for  standing  at  to  write,  on  which  lay 
an  open  ledger,  and  a  lathe  with  its  various  tools; 
shavings  were  scattered  on  the  floor;  everything  re- 
vealed habits  of  constant  and  various  industry.  The 
regular  tread  of  his  foot  in  its  Tartar  boot  of  soft  leather, 
and  the  firm,  steady  pressure  of  his  sinewy  hand  revealed 
an  amazing  fund  of  tenacity  of  will  in  this  vigorous 
specimen  of  a  green  old  age.  After  continuing  his 
work  for  a  few  seconds  he  took  his  foot  from  the  treadle, 
wiped  the  tool  and  dropped  it  into  a  leather  bag  that 


WAR  AND    PEACE.  I4T 

was  nailed  to  the  bench,  and  came  to  the  table.     He 

was  not  in  the  habit  of  giving  his  children  a  blessing, 

but  he  always  offered  them  a  cheek  to  kiss  —  innocent 

generally  of  the  razor.     This  ceremony  being  over  he 

looked  closely  at  his  daughter  and  said  roughly,  but  not 

without  a  touch  of  affection  : 
« 

"  You  are  well,  quite  well  ?  ...  Sit  down  there." 
And  taking  up  a  copy-book  of  geometrical  problems 
written  out  with  his  own  hand,  he  reached  out  a  leg 
and  drew  an  arm-chair  towards  himself. 

"  This  is  for  to-morrow,"  he  said,  and  he  marked  the 
passage  with  his  nail.  Princess  Marie  leaned  over  to 
note  it. 

"  By  the  way,  here  is  a  letter  for  you,"  he  said  sud- 
denly, and  taking  a  letter  addressed  in  a  woman's  hand 
from  a  pocket-bag  that  hung  against  the  wall,  he  tossed 
it  to  her. 

At  the  sight  of  it  Princess  Marie's  face  colored  in 
patches ;  she  took  it  up  and  looked  at  it. 

"  Is  it  from  your  Heloise  ?"  asked  her  father  with  an 
icy  smile  which  showed  his  teeth,  yellow  but  sound. 

"  Yes,  it  is  from  JuHe,"  she  said  timidly. 

"  I  will  let  two  more  letters  pass,  but  I  shall  read 
the  third ;  you  write  all  sorts  of  nonsense,  I  will  be 
bound  —  I  shall  read  the  third." 

"  But,  father,  read  this  one  .  . ."  And  blushing  she 
held  it  out  to  him. 

"  I  said  the  third,  and  I  mean  the  third,"  cried  the 
old  man,  pushing  back  the  letter  and  taking  up  the 
geometry  book.    "Well,  Mademoiselle. ..."  and  he  bent 


142  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

over  his  daughter,  with  one  hand  on  the  back  of  the 
chair  in  which  she  had  seated  herself  and  where  she 
felt  all  round  her  the  peculiar  sour  smell,  mingled  with 
the  fumes  of  tobacco  —  the  stuffy  atmosphere  of  old 
age  to  which  she  was  so  long  accustomed. 

''Well,  these  triangles  are  equal;  you  see  the  angle 
ABC.  .  .  ." 

The  princess  gazed  with  terror  into  her  father's  keen 
-eyes,  her  cheeks  tingled  with  a  scarlet  flush,  and  fear 
deprived  her  of  the  faculty  of  thought  or  of  understand- 
ing her  master's  explanations,  clear  as  they  were.  This 
little  scene  recurred  every  day  —  but  whose  fault  was 
it  ?  The  teacher's  or  the  pupil's  —  who  at  last  could 
see  nothing  clearly  and  hear  nothing  distinctly  ?  Her 
father's  face  Wc's  close  to  hers,  his  acrid  breath  was  the 
air  she  breathed,  slie  could  think  of  nothing  but  making 
her  escape  as  soon  as  possible  to  her  own  room  where 
she  might  solve  the  problem  in  peace  and  liberty.  He, 
on  his  part,  got  angry  —  pushed  away  his  chair,  dragged 
it  back  with  a  clatter  —  trying  all  the  while  to  control 
himself;  then  again  he  would  break  out  and  storm,  and 
wish  the  whole  thing  at  the  devil. 

As  ill-luck  would  have  it  to-day  again  his  daughter 
answered  at  random  and  wrongly. 

"  What  an  idiot !"  he  exclaimed  flinging  down  the 
book.  Then  he  rose,  walked  up  and  down,  came  back 
and  stroked  his  daughter's  hair,  sat  down  again,  and 
began  his  explanation  once  more. 

"  It  does  not  do,  Princess,  it  does  not  do,"  he  said, 
seeing  her  rise  to  leave  him  with  the  book  in  her  hand. 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  1 43 

*'  Mathematics  is  a  noble  science  and  I  do  not  want 
you  to  be  just  like  all  the  silly  young  ladies  one  meets. 
Persevere  and  you  will  learn  to  like  the  work,  and  the 
dulness  will  be  knocked  out  of  your  brain."  And  he 
patted  her  cheek. 

She  was  going,  but  he  signed  to  her  to  stop,  he  took 
from  his  desk  a  book  he  had  just  received  and  held  it 
out  to  her. 

"Here,  your  Heloise  has  sent  you  some  '^Jiey  to  the 
Mystery  "  —  a  religious  work  it  would  seem.  I  do  not 
trouble  my  head  about  anybody's  beliefs,  but  I  have 
looked  it  through.  Take  it,  and  be  off."  And  patting 
her  this  time  on  the  shoulder  he  closed  the  door  behind 
her. 

Marie  returned  to  her  room.  The  scared  expression 
her  plain,  sickly  face  habitually  wore,  made  it  even  less 
attractive  than  nature  had  intended.  She  sat  down  at 
her  writing-table,  on  which  stood  a  few  miniatures  in 
frames,  and  which  was  loaded  with  books  and  papers 
in  utter  disorder — for  she  was  as  untidy  as  her  father 
was  precise — and  eagerly  broke  the  seal  of  the  letter 
which  was  from  the  favorite  friend  of  her  childhood, 
that  Julie  Karaguine  whom  we  have  met  at  the  Ros- 
tows'. 

It  was  as  follows: 

"  Dear  and  best  friend  :  How  terrible  a  thing  is  ab- 
sence !  It  is  in  vain  that  I  say  to  myself  that  half  my 
life  and  happiness  is  bound  up  in  you ;  that,  in  spite  of 
the  miles  that  part  us,  our  hearts  are  linked  insepar- 


144  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

ably  —  mine  rebels  against  fate,  and  notwithstanding  all 
the  pleasures  and  amusements  that  surround  me  I  cannot 
get  over  the  sadness  that  has  lurked  at  the  bottom  of 
my  heart  ever  since  we  parted.  Oh !  why  are  we  not 
side  by  side  as  we  were  in  the  summer,  on  the  blue 
sofa  in  your  sitting-room  —  the  confidential  sofa!  And 
why  may  I  not  now  —  as  I  did  three  months  since  — 
refresh  my  moral  strength  by  looking  into  your  soft, 
calm  deep  eyes  —  the  eyes  I  love  so  much,  and  can 
fancy  I  see  while  I  write !" 

At  this  point  Princess  Marie  sighed  deeply  and 
turned  to  look  at  herself  in  a  long  mirror  which  reflected 
the  whole  of  her  graceless  figure  and  pinched  features, 
while  her  eyes,  as  they  met  their  own  image  in  the 
glass,  seemed  to  have  grown  more  melancholy  than 
ever.  "  She  is  flattering  me,"  she  said  to  herself  as  she 
went  on  with  the  letter. 

But  Julie  was  quite  truthful;  Marie's  eyes  were  large 
and  deep,  and  lightened  up  occasionally  with  a  flash 
that  made  them  startlingly  beautiful  and  transfigured 
the  face  they  lighted  up  with  that  soft  and  loving  gleam. 
But  she  herself  knew  nothing  of  this  look  that  came 
into  her  eyes  whenever  she  forgot  herself  to  think  of 
others;  the  ruthless  mirror  only  showed  her  a  sharp  and 
unattractive  face.     She  went  on  with  the  letter : 

"All   Moscow   is   talking   of  the  war.     One  of  my. 
brothers    is    already   across    the    frontier;  the  other   is 
marching  to  the  front  with  the  guards.   Our  beloved  Em- 
peror has  left  St.  Petersburg,  and  is,  they  say,  preparing 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  I45 

to  expose  his  precious  person  to  the  risks  of  war.  God 
grant  that  the  Corsican  Monster  who  has  wrecked  the 
peace  of  Europe  may  be  crushed  by  the  angehc  being 
that  the  Almighty  has  mercifully  sent  to  rule  over  us. 
Not  to  mention  my  brothers,  the  war  has  bereft  me  of 
one  of  those  who  are  dearest  to  me:  Young  Nicolas 
Rostow,  who,  fired  by  enthusiasm,  could  not  bear  to  re- 
main inactive  and  has  left  college  to  join  the  army. 
Yes,  my  dear  Marie,  in  spite  of  his  extreme  youth,  I 
will  own  to  you  that  his  departure  has  been  a  bitter 
grief  to  me.  I  spoke  to  you  of  this  young  fellow  when 
I  was  with  you;  he  is  so  high-minded,  and  has  so 
much  of  the  genuine  youthfulness  which  is  so  rare  in 
these  days  when  every  lad  of  twenty  is  an  old  man — 
above  all  he  is  so  freshly  frank,  so  purely  poetical,  that 
my  intimacy  with  him,  brief  as  it  has  been,  is  one  of  the 
great  joys  of  my  heart,  which  has  suffered  so  bitterly. 
Some  day  I  will  tell  you  all  about  our  parting  and  what 
passed  between  us;  at  present  it  is  all  too  recent. 

"Ah,  my  dear,  you  are  happy  in  your  ignorance  of 
these  joys  and  acute  pangs — yes,  you  are  happy,  for 
the  pain  is  generally  the  keenest.  I  know  of  course 
that  Count  Nicolas  is  too  young  ever  to  be  anything 
more  to  me  than  a  friend;  but  this  kind  of  friendship, 
these  poetical  ties,  are  a  real  need  of  my  heart.  How- 
ever, no  more  of  that.  The  great  news  in  Moscow  and 
the  talk  of  the  day  is  the  death  of  Count  Besoukhow,  and 
the  reading  of  his  will.  Just  fancy,  the  princesses  get  very 
little  and  Prince  Basil  nothing;  it  is  Monsieur  Pierre 
who  inherits  everything.     His  legitimacy  has  been  es- 

Fol.  I.  10 


146  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

tablished  into  the  bargain,  so  he  is  Count  Besoukhow 
and  the  owner  of  the  largest  fortune  in  Russia.  They 
say  that  Prince  Basil  played  a  very  disgraceful  part  in 
the  whole  business  and  has  gone  off  to  St.  Petersburg 
looking  very  foolish.  For  my  part  I  do  not  understand 
all  the  details  of  will  and  bequests.  All  I  know  is  that 
this  young  fellow,  who  was  no  more  than  M.  Pierre  to 
us  all,  is  now  Count  Besoukhow  and  one  of  the  richest 
men  in  Russia.  It  amuses  me  immensely  to  watch  the 
altered  tone  and  manner  of  the  mammas  burdened  with 
daughters  to  marry — nay,  of  the  daughters  themselves, 
towards  this  individual,  who,  between  you  and  me,  al- 
ways seemed  to  me  a  poor  specimen.  As,  for  the  last 
two  years,  the  world  has  amused  itself  by  making 
matches  for  me — generally  with  men  I  do  not  even 
know — of  course  I  am  now  designated  as  the  future 
countess.  But  I  need  not  tell  you  that  I  have  no  am- 
bition of  that  kind. 

"Apropos  —  do  you  know  that  quite  lately  Anna 
Mikhailovna,  '  aunt  in  general,'  whispered  to  me  as  a 
most  solemn  secret  a  plan  for  marrying  you.  Neither 
more  nor  less  than  to  Prince  Basil's  son  Anatole,  whom 
they  want  to  settle  by  marrying  him  to  a  damsel  of 
wealth  and  rank ;  and  you  are  the  object  of  his  rela- 
tions' choice.  I  do  not  know  what  view  you  may  take 
of  the  matter,  but  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  warn  you. 
He  is  said  to  be  very  handsome  and  a  great  scamp,  and 
that  is  all  I  have  been  able  to  find  out  about  him. 
Now,  this  is  gossip  enough ;  I  am  at  the  end  of  my 
second  sheet,  and  mamma  is  calling  me  to  go  to  dine 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  I47 

with  the  Apraxines.  Read  the  book  I  am  sendmg  you. 
It  is  mystical  and  the  rage  here;  and  though  there  are 
many  things  in  it  which  are  hard  of  apprehension  to 
weak  human  minds,  it  is  a  beautiful  work  and  soothes 
and  edifies  the  soul.  Farewell.  Give  my  respects  to 
your  father  and  remembrances  to  Mile.  Bourrienne.  I 
embrace  you  fondly.  «'  T  T 

"  P.  S'.  Let  me  have  news  of  your  brother  and  his 
fascinating  little  wife." 

On  reading  this  effusion  Princess  Marie  remained 
sunk  in  a  pleasing  reverie  ;  she  sat  thinking  and  smiling, 
and  her  face,  lighted  up  by  her  beautiful  eyes,  was 
transfigured.  Then  she  suddenly  rose,  crossed  the 
room  with  an  air  of  determination,  and  settling  herself 
to  write  she  rapidly  penned  the  following  reply : 

"  My  dear,  best  friend,  your  letter  of  the  13th  has 
given  me  the  greatest  pleasure.  So  you  still  care  for 
me,  my  poetic  Julie,  and  absence,  which  you  rail  at, 
has  not  had  its  usual  effect  on  you.  You  complain  of 
parting !  What  then  could  I  say,  if  I  dared  to  com- 
plain, bereft  as  I  am  of  all  who  are  dear  to  me?  Ah, 
if  we  had  not  religion  to  comfort  us,  life  would  indeed 
be  dreary.  —  And  why  do  you  fancy  I  shall  look  stern 
as  I  read  of  your  regard  for  your  young  friend?  In 
such  matters  I  am  lenient  to  all  but  myself  I  quite 
understand  such  feelings  in  others,  and  if  I  cannot 
actually  approve  them,  never  having  experienced  them, 


148  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

I  cannot  condemn  them.  Only  it  seems  to  me  that 
Christian  love  —  the  love  of  our  neighbors,  the  love  of 
our  enemies  —  is  more  worthy  and  more  tender  than 
the  feelings  roused  in  a  romantic  and  sentimental  girl 
like  you  by  a  young  man's  fine  eyes. 

"The  news  of  Count  Besoukhow's  death  had 
reached  us  before  your  letter  and  affected  my  father 
deeply ;  he  was  —  he  says  —  the  last  representative  but 
one  of  the  good  old  times,  and  now  it  is  his  turn,  but 
he  intends  to  postpone  it  as  long  as  possible.  God  pre- 
serve us  indeed  from  such  a  misfortune!  I  cannot  agree 
with  you  in  your  opinion  of  Pierre  whom  I  knew  as  a 
child.  He  always  seemed  to  me  thoroughly  good- 
hearted  and  that  is  the  quality  I  most  value.  As  to  the 
property,  and  Prince  Basil's  conduct  in  the  matter,  it  is 
most  sad  for  both.  Indeed,  my  dear  friend,  our  Lord's 
saying  that  '  it  is  easier  for  a  camel  to  go  through  the 
eye  of  a  needle  than  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  God '  is  terribly  true !  I  pity  Prince  Basil, 
but  I  pity  M.  Pierre  even  more.  So  young,  and  so 
loaded  with  wealth,  what  temptations  he  must  be  ex- 
posed to !  If  I  were  asked  what  I  most  wish  in  this 
world  it  would  be  to  be  poorer  than  the  poorest  beg- 
gar. 

"  Many  thanks,  my  dear,  for  the  book,  which  you 
tell  me  is  the  rage  with  you.  At  the  same  time,  as  you 
say  that  among  many  good  things  there  are  others 
which  the  weakness  of  our  understanding  can  scarcely 
attain  to,  it  seems  to  me  useless  to  spend  time  in  read- 
ing what  is  incomprehensible  and  therefore  can  bear  no 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


49 


good  fruit.  I  never  could  understand  the  mania  that 
some  people  have  for  bewildering  their  judgment  by- 
devoting  themselves  to  the  study  of  mystical  works 
which  only  raise  doubts  in  their  minds,  while  they  ex- 
cite their  imagination  and  lend  it  an  inflated  exaggera- 
tion quite  contrary  to  true  Christian  simplicity.  Let  us 
read  the  Apostles  and  the  Gospels  and  not  try  to  pene- 
trate the  mysteries  they  contain ;  how  can  we,  miserable 
sinners  as  we  are,  presume  to  enquire  into  the  holy  and 
awful  secrets  of  Providence  so  long  as  we  wear  the 
burden  of  this  flesh  which  forms  an  impenetrable  veil 
between  our  spirits  and  the  Almighty.  Let  us  be  con- 
tent to  study  the  sublime  principles  which  our  Saviour 
has  given  us  for  guidance  on  earth ;  let  us  try  to  con- 
form to  them  and  live  by  them,  convincing  ourselves 
that  the  less  we  give  the  reins  to  our  puny  human  in- 
tellect the  more  pleasing  it  will  be  in  the  eyes  of  God, 
who  contemns  all  knowledge  that  is  not  of  Himself — 
that  the  less  we  strive  to  search  out  those  matters  which 
He  has  thought  fit  to  hide  from  our  ken  the  sooner 
he  will  vouchsafe  us  knowledge  through  His  Divine 
Spirit. 

"  My  father  has  said  nothing  to  me  of  any  suitor; 
he  only  told  me  that  he  had  had  a  letter  and  expected  a 
visit  from  Prince  Basil.  With  regard  to  the  plan  for  my 
marriage,  I  may  say  to  you,  my  dear  kind  friend,  that 
marriage  is  in  my  opinion  a  divine  institution  to  which 
we  are  bound  to  conform.  However  painful  it  may  be, 
if  the  Almighty  should  ever  require  me  to  undertake 
the  duties  of  a  wife  and  mother  I  will  try  to  fulfil  them  as 


150  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

faithfully  as  I  can,  without  puzzling  myself  by  analyzing 
my  feelings  towards  the  man  whom  He  appoints  to  be 
my  husband.  I  have  had  a  letter  from  my  brother  an- 
nouncing his  arrival  here  with  his  wife.  It  will  be  but 
a  brief  happiness,  since  he  is  off  at  once  to  this  misera- 
ble war  into  which  we  have  been  dragged  God  knows 
how  or  why.  It  is  not  only  at  Moscow,  in  the  whirl  of 
the  busy  world  that  war  is  the  sole  topic;  but  here  as 
well,  in  the  heart  of  the  country,  amid  field-laborers 
and  that  peace  which  townsfolks  always  attribute  to 
rural  scenes  the  rumors  of  war  are  heard,  and  cruelly 
felt.  My  father  talks  of  nothing  but  marches  and 
countermarches  which  I  do  not  understand;  and  yes- 
terday, as  I  took  my  usual  walk  down  the  village  street, 
I  saw  a  scene  tliat  went  to  my  heart :  a  squad  of  re- 
cruits just  enlisted  here  and  being  drafted  off  to  join  the 
army.  You  should  have  seen  the  state  the  women  were 
in  —  mothers,  wives,  and  children  of  the  men  who  were 
starting  —  you  should  have  heard  their  sobbing  and 
crying  !  It  really  would  seem  as  if  human  beings  had 
altogether  forgotten  the  precepts  of  the  divine  Saviour 
who  preached  forgiveness  and  love,  and  thought  that 
their  greatest  merit  lay  in  their  skill  in  killing  each 
other. 

"  Farewell,  my  dear  good  friend.     May  the  Saviour 
and  His  Blessed  Mother  have  you  in  their  holy  keep- 

"  Marie." 


mg! 


"Oh!  Princess,  you  are  sending  off  the  courier;  I 
have  written  to  my  poor  mother,"  cried  Mile.  Bourrienne 


WAR  AND    PEACE.  151 

in  her  full,  sweet  voice  and  strongly  Parisian  French.  Her 
brisk  and  bird-like  appearance  contrasted  strangely  with 
the  gloomy,  solitary,  and  melancholy  atmosphere  that 
hung  round  the  princess. 

"  I  must  warn  you,"  she  added  in  a  lower  tone. 
*'The  prince  has  had  a  squabble  with  Michael  Ivanow; 
he  is  in  a  very  bad  temper  —  very  savage  ...  Be  care- 
ful ..  .  you  know.  .  .  ." 

"  Oh,  my  dear  friend,  I  have  often  begged  you  not 
to  make  remarks  to  me  about  my  father's  bad  temper. 
I  never  allow  myself  to  pass  judgment  on  it  and  I  ex- 
pect others  to  follow  my  example,"  replied  Marie  look- 
ing at  her  watch,  and  perceiving  with  alarm  that  it  was 
five  minutes  after  the  time  when  she  was  required  to 
practise  on  the  piano,  she  hurried  into  the  drawing- 
room.  While  the  prince  took  a  siesta  from  noon  till 
two  his  daughter  was  to  exercise  her  fingers :  this  was 
the  immutable  rule  of  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  grey-haired  man-servant  was  nodding  in  his 
chair,  to  the  sound  of  his  master's  regular  snore  as  he 
took  his  mid-day  nap  in  his  study,  and  of  the  remoter 
tinkle  of  the  piano  on  which  the  difficult  passages  of  a 
sonata  by  Dreyschock  were  being  repeated  as  often  as 
twenty  times. 


152  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

A  chaise  and  a  britzska  drew  up  at  the  front  entrance; 
Prince  Andre  got  out  first  and  then  gave  his  hand  to 
his  wife.  Old  Tikhone,  who  had  softly  stolen  out  of 
the  anteroom  and  closed  the  door  behind  him,  ex- 
plained in  a  low  voice  that  the  prince  was  asleep :  not 
even  the  advent  of  the  son  of  the  house,  not  any  event, 
however  extraordinary,  could  be  allowed  to  interrupt 
the  order  of  the  day.  Prince  Andre  knew  this  as  well 
as  he  did  —  perhaps  better,  for  he  looked  at  his  watch 
to  assure  himself  that  no  change  had  occurred  in  his 
father's  habits. 

"  He  will  not  wake  for  the  next  twenty  minutes,"  he 
^aid  to  his  wife,  "  we  will  go  to  Marie." 

The  little  princess  had  grown  stouter,  but  on  her 
short  downy  upper  lip  and  in  her  eyes  there  was  the 
same  bright  and  attractive  smile. 

"  But  this  is  a  palace !"  she  exclaimed,  expressing 
her  admiration  as  if  she  had  been  complimenting  her 
host  on  the  success  of  a  ball.  "  Come  along,  quick  — 
quick !"  And  she  smiled  at  her  husband  and  at  old 
Tikhone  who  led  the  Avay.  "  Hark  !  Marie  is  practising 
—  Let  us  go  gendy  and  surprise  her."  Prince  Andre 
followed  gloomily. 

"You  are  growing  older,  my  good  fellow!"  he  said 
to  the  man  who  kissed  his  hand. 

Just  as  they  were  going  into  the  room  where  they 
heard  the  piano  a  side  door  opened,  and  a  pretty  young 
French  woman  came  out;  this  was  the  fair  Mile. 
Bourrienne  who  looked  delighted  and  surprised  at  see- 
ing them. 


I 


WAU    AND    PEACE.  1 53 

"  Oh !  how  glad  Princess  Marie  will  be !"  she 
exclaimed.     "  I  must  go  and  tell  her." 

"  No,  no  —  I  beg  you  not !  You  are  Mile.  Bour- 
rienne:  I  know  of  you  already  as  my  sister-in-law's 
friend,"  said  the  princess  kissing  her.  "  She  does  not 
expect  us  yet  I  fancy." 

They  were  at  the  door  now,  while  within,  the  same 
passages  went  on  again  and  again,  unceasingly.  Prince 
Andre  frowned  as  if  he  were  prepared  to  feel  some 
painful  sensation.  His  wife  went  in  first;  the  music 
suddenly  ceased.  There  was  a  little  cry  —  a  sound  of 
kisses  —  and  Prince  Andre  saw  his  wife  and  sister,  who 
had  only  met  once  before  on  the  occasion  of  his  mar- 
riage, fondly  clasped  in  each  other's  arms  while  Mile. 
Bounienne  looked  on,  her  hand  on  her  heart,  and 
ready  to  cry  and  laugh  in  a  breath. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  knit  his  brows,  like 
a  musician  who  hears  a  false  note.  The  two  young 
ladies  having  stood  apart  and  looked  at  each  other, 
once  more  met  in  a  close  embrace.  Finally,  to  his  great 
consternation,  they  melted  into  tears.  Mile.  Bourrienne, 
deeply  moved,  also  began  to  cry.  Prince  Andre  Avas 
most  uncomfortable,  but  his  wife  and  sister  seemed  to 
think  it  quite  a  matter  of  course  that  their  first  meeting 
should  not  take  place  without  tears.  e  w^ 

''x\h!  my  dear!" — "Ah,  Marie!"  they  kepTikying, 
and  laughing  at  the  same  time. 

"  Do  you  know  I  dreamed  of  you  last  night?" 

"  And  you  did  not  expect  us  ?  —  But,  Marie,  you  are 
much  thinner!" 


154  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

"  I  recognized  Madame  la  Princesse  immediately," 
Mile.  Bourrienne  threw  in. 

"  And  I  was  not  thinking  of  your  coming  so  soon. — 
Oh  !  Andre  —  and  I  did  not  see  you  I" 

Prince  Andre  kissed  his  sister. 

"  What  a  Baby  you  are !"  he  said  as  she  looked  up 
at  him  with  her  lovely  eyes  dim  with  tears,  trying  to 
look  into  his  with  a  bright,  tender  gaze.  His  little  wife 
never  ceased  chattering.  That  short  upperlip  danced  up 
and  down,  lightly  touching  the  lower  one  and  then 
curling  in  a  radiant  smile  that  showed  off  her  small, 
gleaming  teeth,  and  the  brightness  of  her  merry  eyes 

"They  had  had  an  accident.  .  .  ."  she  rattled  on, 
"  and  it  might  have  been  serious — at  Spasskaia-Gora. — 
And  she  had  left  all  her  dresses  at  St.  Petersburg ;  she 
had  not  a  thing  to  put  on  .  .  .  and  Andre  had  altered — 
and  Kitty  Odintzow  had  married  such  a  queer  old 
man  —  and  she  had  found  a  husband  for  her  sister  — 
yes  a  husband  in  earnest  .  .  .  But  we  will  discuss  that 
by-and-bye,"  she  added. 

Marie  stood  looking  at  her  brother;  her  eyes  were 
full  of  love  and  sadness.  She  had  ceased  to  attend  to 
the  pretty  litde  macaw's  prattle,  and  even  broke  into  a 
description  of  one  of  the  late  fetes  at  St.  Petersburg  to 
ask  hehiavother  whether  he  had  really  decided  on  join- 
ing tjist  ^^"my. 

'•  -*r.s  —  and  I  must  start  to-morrow." 

Lisa  sighed.  "  He  deserts  me,"  she  exclaimed, 
"  and  God  knows  why  when  he  might  have  taken  his 
promotion.  .  .  ." 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  I  55 

Marie  did  not  heed  her ;  she  glanced  significantly 
at  her  sister-in-law  and  at  her  brother.  "  And  I  am 
frightened,"  added  Lisa.  She  turned  pale,  her  lips 
puckered  and,  leaning  her  cheek  against  her  sister-in- 
law's,  she  melted  into  tears  again. 

"  She  needs  rest,"  said  her  husband  with  some  dis- 
pleasure. —  "  Do  not  you,  Lisa  ?  Take  her  with  you, 
Marie,  while  I  go  to  see  my  father  .  .  .  Tell  me  —  he  is 
the  same  as  ever  ?" 

"  Yes  —  so  far  as  I  am  concerned,"  said  his  sister. 

"  The  same  hours,  the  same  walks,  and  then  the 
turning-lathe.  .  .  ."  And  Prince  Andre's  almost  imper- 
ceptible smile  showed  that,  in  spite  of  filial  respect,  he 
quite  appreciated  his  father's  queer  manias. 

"  Yes  —  the  same  hours,  the  same  turning,  the  les- 
sons in  geometry  and  mathematics,"  she  said  laughing, 
as  if  those  hours  of  study  were  the  joy  of  her  life. 

When  the  final  twenty  minutes  of  the  old  prince's 
nap  were  over,  old  Tikhone  came  to  call  Prince  Andre; 
his  father  did  him  the  honor  of  so  far  changing  the  order 
of  his  day  as  to  receive  him  while  his  toilet  was  going 
on.  Prince  Bolkonsky  always  had  his  hair  powdered 
for  dinner,  and  put  on  an  old-fashioned  frock-coat. 
When  his  son  went  into  his  dressing-room  he  was  sitting 
in  his  leather  arm-chair,  covered  with  a  white  wrapper, 
and  his  head  under  the  hands  of  the  faithful  Tikhone. 
Prince  Andre  went  forward  eagerly;  the  peevish  ex- 
pression which  was  habitual  with  him  had  vanished;  he 
looked  as  bright  as  we  have  seen  him  when  talking  with 
Pierre. 


156  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

"  Ha  !  here  you  are,  my  brave  soldier  !  So  you  are 
going  to  conquer  Bonaparte,"  cried  the  old  man  shak- 
ing his  powdered  head,  so  far  as  he  could  while  Tikhone 
plaited  his  pigtail.  "Very  good,  very  good  —  go  by 
all  means,  forward,  march !  Or  we  may  be  numbered 
among  his  subjects  before  we  know  where  we  are.  — 
And  you  are  quite  well  ?" 

He  offered  his  son  his  cheek.  His  nap  had  put  hihi 
into  a  good  humor;  indeed,  he  was  wont  to  say  "sleep 
before  dinner  is  golden ;  sleep  after  dinner  is  silver." 
He  glanced  at  his  son  with  immense  satisfaction  out  of 
the  corner  of  his  eye  from  under  his  bushy  brows,  while 
Andre  kissed  the  cheek  presented  to  him  and  made  no 
reply  to  his  inexhaustible  jests  about  the  military  men  of 
the  day,  and  Napoleon  especially. 

"  Yes,  here  I  am,  Father.  And  I  have  brought  you 
my  wife  at  an  interesting  crisis  .  .  .  And  you,  are  you 
quite  well  ?" 

"  My  dear  boy,  only  idiots  or  rakes  ever  need  be  ill, 
and  you  know  what  I  am  —  I  work  from  morning  till 
night,  and  I  keep  sober,  so  I  am  perfectly  well." 

"  Thank  God  for  that,"  said  his  son. 

"God  has  nothing  to  do  with  it!  —  Come.  .  .  ." 
and  he  returned  to  his  hobby.  "  Tell  me  how  the 
Germans  teach  us  to  beat  Napoleon  by  the  rules  of  this 
new  game  they  call  Tactics." 

"  Give  me  breathing  time,  my  dear  Father,"  said  the 
son  smiling,  for  he  loved  and  respected  him  in  spite  of 
his  crotchets.     "  I  have  not  even  seen  my  room  yet." 

"  Nonsense,  nonsense,  all  that  is  nonsense,"  said  the 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  157 

old  man  feeling  his  pigtail  to  make  sure  that  it  was 
firmly  plaited.  He  took  his  son's  hand  :  "  The  rooms 
for  your  wife  are  quite  ready.  Marie  will  take  her 
there  and  show  them  to  her,  and  they  will  chatter  three 
basketsful .  . .  that  is  all  women's  work.  I  am  very  glad 
to  have  her  here. —  Now,  sit  down  there  and  talk.  I 
understand  the  force  under  Michelson  and  the  army 
undef  Tolstoy  :  they  will  work  together;  but  the  army 
in  the  south  —  what  is  that  to  do  ?  Prussia  remains 
neutral  I  know ;  but  Austria  and  Sweden,  what  of 
them  ?"  And  he  got  up  and  paced  about  the  room, 
Tikhone  following  him  and  handing  him  his  various  ar- 
ticles of  clothing.  "  How  are  we  to  get  across  Pome- 
rania  ?" 

His  father  was  so  persevering  in  his  enquiries  that 
Prince  Andre  began,  unwillingly  at  first  but  with  in- 
creasing interest,  to  explain  partly  in  French  and  partly 
m  Russian,  the  plan  of  the  campaign  which  was  begin- 
nings He  explained  that  an  army  of  90,000  men  were 
to  threaten  Prussia  and  force  her  to  abandon  her  po- 
sition as  a  neutral  power;  that  part  of  these  troops 
would  join  the  Swedes  at  Stralsund;  that  220,000  Aus- 
trians  and  100,000  Russians  would  meanwhile  man- 
oeuvre in  Italy  and  on  the  Rhine ;  that  50,000  English 
and  50,000  Russians  would  be  landed  at  Naples,  and 
that  the  total  force  of  500,000  men  would  thus  attack 
Napoleon  at  several  points  at  once. 

The  old  prince  did  not  seem  to  take  the  smallest  in- 
terest in  this  long  story ;  in  fact  he  might  have  not  been 
listening,  for  he  thrice  interrupted  it  as  he  walked  about 


158  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

the  room  and  went  on  with  his  dressing.  The  first  time 
he  exclaimed  :  "  The  white  one,  the  white  one,"  winch 
arose  from  old  Tikhone  having  handed  him  the  wrong 
waistcoat. 

The  second  time  he  asked  when  his  daughter-in- 
law's  baby  was  expected,  and  shook  his  head  reproach- 
fully saying  :  ''  That's  a  pity,  that's  a  pity  !  —  Go  on." 

And  the  third  time,  while  his  son  was  finishing  his 
explanation,  he  began  singing  in  a  cracked  tuneless 
voice  :  ''  Marlbrough  s'en  va-t-en  guerre^  en  guerre^  en 
guerre.  ..." 

"  I  am  not  telling  you  that  I  approve  of  this 
scheme,"  said  his  son  with  a  faint  smile,  "  I  have  stated 
it  as  it  is  now  planned;  Napoleon  will  certainly  have 
one  of  his  own  at  least  as  good  as  ours." 

"  There  is  nothing  new  —  nothing  new  whatever,  in 
all  that ;  that  is  all  I  have  to  say  to  it,"  and  the  old 
man  went  on  in  a  meditative  undertone:  '' ^ Ne  salt 
qua?id  reviendra,  dra,  dra  . . .'  Now  go  into  the  dining- 
room.'' 

Two  o'clock  was  striking  when  Prince  Bolkonsky, 
shaved  and  powdered,  came  into  the  dining-room  where 
his  daughter-in-law,  his  daughter,  and  Mile.  Bourrienne 
were  waiting  for  him,  and  with  them  his  architect,  or 
clerk  of  the  works,  who  was  admitted  to  dine  with  him 
though  his  subordinate  position  gave  him  no  claim  to 
such  an  honor.  The  old  prince,  who  rode  a  very 
high  horse  on  points  of  etiquette  and  rank,  rarely  in- 
vited the  provincial  big-wigs  to  his  table,  but  it  amused 
him  to  demonstrate  the  equaUty  of  all  men  in  the  person 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  1 59 

of  Jhis  architect,  who  shyly  blew  his  nose  on  a  checked 
pocket-handkerchief.  He  not  unfrequently  represented 
to  his  daughter  that  Michael  Ivanovitch,  as  a  man, 
was  as  good  as  they  were,  and  he  almost  always  ad- 
dressed his  conversation  to  him  during  meals. 

Behind  each  chair  in  the  spacious  dining-room  stood 
a  servant,  and  the  butler,  with  a  napkin  over  his  arm, 
cast  a  last  anxious  look  from  the  table  to  tlie  footmen  — 
from  the  big  clock  to  the  door  which  was  about  to  open 
for  his  master.  Prince  Andre  was  studying  a  pedigree 
of  the  family  which  hung,  in  a  gilt  frame,  opposite  a 
large  picture  infamously  painted  by  an  amateur  and  rep- 
resenting the  head  of  the  Bolkonsky  clan,  a  descend- 
ant of  Rurik,  as  a  sovereign  prince  with  a  crown  on  his 
head.  Andre  could  not  help  smiling  as  he  looked  at 
this  daub — a  fancy  portrait  in  which  the  "fancy" 
verged  on  the  grotesque. 

"  How  like  him  to  have  such  a  thing;  that  is  the 
man,  all  over  I"  he  exclaimed. 

Princess  Marie,  who  had  just  come  in,  gazed  at  him 
in  surprise,  not  understanding  what  he  could  find  to 
laugh  at :  she  had  a  sort  of  religious  reverence  for  every- 
thing relating  to  her  father  which  no  criticism  could  touch. 

"  Well,  every  man  has  his  Achilles'  heel,"  Andre 
went  on.  "  So  clever  as  he  is,  and  to  make  himself  so 
ridiculous !" 

Princess  Marie,  who  did  not  approve  of  such  au- 
dacious remarks,  was  on  the  point  of  answering,  when 
the  steps  they  were  waiting  for  with  so  much  impatience 
were  heard  approaching.     The  old  man's  brisk,  light 


l6o  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

gait  and  his  quick,  sharp  ways  were  in  such  strange 
contrast  to  the  austere  and  precise  order  of  the  house, 
that  he  might  have  been  suspected  of  intentional 
mystification. 

So  the  hall  clock  had  just  struck  two  and  the  draw- 
ing-room was  giving  a  melancholy  echo  when  the 
prince  made  his  appearance ;  his  keen  undimmed  eyes, 
under  the  penthouse  of  their  shaggy  grey  brows,  fell  on 
one  and  another  of  the  persons  present,  and  rested  finally 
on  the  little  princess  who  at  once  felt  for  her  father-in- 
law  the  respect  mingled  with  fear  which  he  inspired  in 
all  who  came  near  him.  He  sofdy  stroked  her  hair  and 
patted  her  on  the  back  of  her  neck. 

"  I  am  very  glad  —  very  glad  ..."  h€  said.  And 
after  staring  her  in  the  face  for  a  few  seconds  he  seated 
himself  at  the  table  :  "  Sit  down — sit  down,  Michael 
Ivanovitch." 

He  pointed  out  a  chair  by  his  side  to  his  daughter- 
in-law,  and  the  servant  pushed  it  forward  for  her. 

"  Hum !"  said  the  prince  as  slie  took  her  seat,  "you 

must  walk  about  —  take  plenty  of  exercise "  And  he 

smiled  with  a  dry,  unpleasant  curl  while  his  eyes  ex- 
pressed nothing. 

Lisa  did  not  hear,  or  pretended  not  to  hear;  she 
sat  uncomfortable  and  silent  till  the  prince  asked  after 
her  father  and  some  old  acquaintances ;  then  she  re- 
covered herself  and  smiled  again,  and  told  him  all  the 
small  gossip  of  St.  Petersburg, 

"  Poor  Countess  Apraxine  has  lost  her  husband,  and 
quite  cried  her  eyes  out .  . . ." 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  l6l 

But  the  more  lively  she  became  the  more  sternly 
did  the  prince  look  at  her;  suddenly  he  turned  abruptly 
away,  as  if  he  had  heard  all  he  wanted  to  know : 

"  Well,  Michael  Ivanovitch,"  he  exclaimed,  "  your 
friend  Napoleon  will  come  to  grief.  Prince  Andre  " — 
he  always  spoke  so  of  his  son —  "has  explained  it  all 
to  me.  A  tremendous  force  is  being  brought  against 
him  .  .  .  And  to  think  that  we  —  you  and  I  —  have  al- 
ways thought  him  a  poor  creature !" 

Michael  Ivanovitch  was  well  aware  that  he  had 
never  thought  anything  of  the  kind,  or  in  such  good 
company ;  however,  he  understood  that  he  was  ad- 
dressed simply  as  an  opening  to  the  discussion,  and  he 
looked  up  at  Prince  Andre  somewhat  puzzled,  and  not 
very  clear  as  to  what  was  coming  next. 

"  Oh,  he  is  great  at  tactics !"  said  the  prince  to  his 
son,  meaning  the  architect;  and  then  he  dilated  on  his 
favorite  themes :  the  war,  Napoleon,  the  commanders 
and  statesmen  of  the  day.  By  his  account  the  men  at 
the  head  of  affairs  were  mere  school-boys,  ignorant  of 
the  first  elements  of  war  or  of  administration;  Bonaparte 
Avas  a  trumpery  little  Frenchman  whose  success  was 
entirely  due  to  the  incapacity  of  Potemkin  and  Souvo- 
row.  Europe  was  involved  in  no  complications,  and  as 
to  the  war,  it  was  not  a  serious  matter  but  a  farce 
played  by  puppets  in  the  hands  of  the  ruling  jobber  to 
cheat  the  public. 

Prince  Andre  answered  all  his  sallies  in  a  gay  vein, 
and  even  incited  his  father  to  go  on.  • 

"Ah!  the  past  is  always  better  than  the  present; 

Vol.  I.  II 


1 62  WAR    AND   PEACE. 

and  yet  Souvorow  let  himself  be  caught  in  the  trap  laid 
by  Moreau;  he  could  not  outwit  him." 

"  Who  told  you  that,  who  told  you  that  ?"  cried  the 
prince.  "  Souvorow  .  .  ."  And  he  tossed  his  plate  into 
the  air ;  old  Tikhone  was  quick  enough  to  catch  it  be- 
fore it  fell. 

"  Frederick  and  Souvorow  were  a  pair ;  but  Mo- 
reau! Moreau  would  have  been  a  prisoner  if  Souvorow 
had  only  been  free  to  act.  But  he  was  saddled  with 
the  Hofkriegsvvurstschnapsrath*  whom  the  devil  himself 
could  not  have  shaken  off.  You  will  see — oh!  yes, 
you  will  see  what  a  HofkriegswurstschnajDsrath  is  like. 
And  if  Souvorow  could  not  make  elbow  room  Michael 
Koutouzow  is  not  the  man  to  do  it.  No,  no,  my  friend. 
Your  generals  will  not  serve  your  turn ;  you  must  have 
French  generals,  men  who  turn  and  rend  each  other  to 
fight  Napoleon.  Pahlen,  who  is  a  German,  has  been 
sent  already  to  New  York  to  seek  out  Moreau,"  he 
went  on,  alluding  to  the  overtures  made  to  Moreau  to 
go  over  to  Russia.  "  It  is  monstrous.  Potemkin,  Sou- 
vorow, Orlow,  were  they  Germans  I  ask  you?  Take 
my  word,  either  they  have  lost  their  head  or  I  have 
lost  mine.  I  wish  you  good-luck — but  we  shall  see. — 
Bonaparte  a  great  General  ?     Ha,  ha !" 

"  I  am  far  from  thinking  our  organization  perfect, 
but  I  confess  I  do  not  see  things  quite  as  you  do;  you 
may  laugh  at  Bonaparte  as  much  as  you  Hke ;  that  will 
not  alter  the  fact  that  he  is  a  great  general." 

*  As  in  the  original  —  a  farcical  sham  title. 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  1 63 

"Michael  Ivanovitch,"  cried  the  old  prince,  "do 
you  hear  that?" 

Michael  Ivanovitch,  who  was  giving  his  mind  to 
his  dinner,  had  hoped  that  he  was  forgotten. 

"Do  you  hear?  I  always  maintained  that  Bona- 
parte was  a  great  strategist  —  well,  and  he  thinks  so 
too." 

"Why,  of  course,  your  Excellency,"  murmured 
Michael  Ivanovitch,  while  the  prince  laughed  shortly. 

"  Bonaparte  was  born  under  a  lucky  star,  his  soldiers 
are  first-rate;  and  then  he  was  so  fortunate  as  to  fight 
the  Germans  first  and  beat  them:  only  a  helpless  idiot 
could  escape  beating  them;  since  the  world  began  they 
have  always  been  thrashed  and  they  have  never  been 
able  to  thrash  anyone. —  Well,  yes,  they  have  thrashed 
each  other,  but  that  does  not  count. —  Well,  he  owes 
all  his  glory  to  them."  And  he  began  a  list  of  all  the 
mistakes  Napoleon  had  made — in  his  opinion. 

His  son  listened  in  silence,  but  no  argument  could 
shake  his  convictions  which  were  as  firmly  rooted  as  his 
father's;  still  he  wondered  how  a  solitary  old  man, 
living  in  retirement  in  the  country,  had  managed  so 
thoroughly  to  master  the  military  and  political  situation 
of  Europe,  down  to  the  smallest  details. 

"You  fancy  I  know  nothing  about  it  because  I  am 
old?  Well,  you  see.  ...  It  works  in  my  brain  and  keeps 
me  awake  at  night .  .  .  Show  me  what  your  great  com- 
mander has  done;  where  and  how  has  he  proved  his 
skill?" 

"It  would  be  too  long  to  explain." 


164  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

"Well,  well,  go  and  join  your  Bonaparte!  Here  is 
another  admirer  of  your  blackguard  Emperor!"  ex- 
claimed the  old  man. 

*'Nay,  you  know  I  am  no  Bonapartist!" 

^^Ne  salt  quafid  reviendra^'  hummed  the  old  prince 
in  a  cracked  voice,  and  he  laughed  grimly  as  he  rose 
from  table. 

All  through  this  discussion  the  little  princess  had  sat 
scared  and  speechless  looking  by  turns  at  her  husband, 
her  sister-in-law  and  the  old  man.  As  soon  as  dinner 
was  over  she  put  her  hand  through  Marie's  arm,  pulling 
her  away  into  the  next  room: 

,"  How  clever  your  father  is !"  she  exclaimed.  "  That 
is  the  reason  I  am  so  much  afraid  of  him,  I  think." 

"  But  he  is  so  kind,"  said  Marie. 

The  next  day :  Prince  Andre  was  to  start  that  even- 
ing. The  old  prince  had  made  no  alteration  in  his 
habits  and  had  retired  to  his  room  after  dinner.  His 
daughter-in-law  was  with  Princess  Marie,  while  his  son, 
having  exchanged  his  uniform  for  an  undress  surtout 
without  epaulettes,  was  making  the  last  preparations 
for  his  departure  with  the  help  of  his  valet.  He  went 
in  person  to  inspect  his  travelling-chaise  and  trunks, 
and  ordered  the  horses  to  be  put  to.  Nothing  remained 
in  his  room  but  various  small  objects  of  constant  use; 
a  dressing-case,  a  canteen  with  silver  fittings,  a  pair  of 
pistols  and  a  Turkish  sabre  which  his  father  had  seized 
at  the  assault  on  Otchakow  and  had  given  to  him;  and 
everything  was  cleaned  and  repaired,  put  into  perfect 
order  and  sheathed  in  cloth  covers  strongly  fastened 


WAR   AND   PEACE.  165 

and  strapped.  If  a  man  is  at  all  inclined  to  reflection 
he  is  almost  always  in  a  serious  frame  of  mind  on  the 
eve  of  a  parting  or  of  some  serious  change  in  his  life: 
he  glances  back  on  the  past  and  forms  some  plans  for 
the  future.  Prince  Andre  was  anxious  and  saddened; 
lie  walked  up  and  down  his  room  with  his  hands  behind 
his  back,  nodding  his  head  now  and  again,  and  staring 
before  him  with  an  absent  gaze.  Was  he  uneasy  as  to 
the  issue  of  the  war,  or  was  he  regretting  his  wife?  A 
litde  of  both  perhaps;  but  he  evidently  had  no  wish  to 
be  detected  in  this  sentimental  mood,  for,  hearing  steps 
in  the  adjoining  room,  he  hastily  went  up  to  the  table 
and  pretended  to  be  busy  arranging  his  dressing-case, 
putting  on  his  usual  calm  and  inscrutable  expression. 

Princess  Marie  came  running  in  quite  out  of 
breath. 

"  They  told  me  you  had  ordered  the  carriage  round, 
and  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  alone,  for  God  knows 
how  long  it  may  be  before  we  meet  again  ...  It  does 
not  vex  you  to  have  me  here  ?  .  .  .  You  are  very  much 
altered,  Andrioucha,"  she  added,  as  if  to  explain  her 
question.  She  could  not  help  smiling  as  she  called  him 
by  this  pet  name ;  it  was  strange  to  her  that  this  hand- 
some young  fellow,  with  his  austere  manner,  could  be 
the  Andrioucha  of  her  childhood,  the  companion  of  her 
games,  the  mischievous  slip  of  a  boy  of  a  not  very  re-' 
mote  past. 

"  And  where  is  Lisa  ?"  he  said  answering  her  ques- 
tion by  a  smile. 

"  She  is  gone  to  sleep  on  my  sofa,  quite  tired  out. 


1 66  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

Ah,  Andre !  what  a  treasure  of  a  wife  you  have  found ! 
A  perfect  child  :  gay,  Hvely  —  I  love  her  dearly." 

Andre  had  seated  himself  by  his  sister's  side ;  a 
slightly  ironical  smile  parted  his  lips ;  she  observed  it 
and  went  on : 

"  You  must  not  be  too  hard  on  her  little  weak- 
nesses .  .  .  Who  is  there  that  has  none  ?  She  has  been 
brought  up  in  the  middle  of  the  gay  world,  her  position 
is  a  painful  one  .  .  .  You  must  put  yourself  in  her  place: 
to  understand  the  difficulties  of  others  is  to  forgive. 
You  must  admit  that  it  is  very  hard  for  her,  under  the 
circumstances,  to  be  parted  from  her  husband,  left  alone 
in  the  country  —  yes,  really  very  hard  to  be  forced  to 
break  away  from  all  her  habits  of  life !" 

Prince  Andre  listened  as  a  man  listens  to  any  one 
whom  he  knows  thoroughly. 

"  But  you  live  in  the  country,"  he  said.  "  Do  you 
find  this  life  so  intolerable  ?" 

"I!  oh,  that  is  quite  different!  I  know  nothing 
else,  I  cannot  wish  for  another  life;  but  for  a  young- 
woman  who  is  used  to  a  wider  world  it  is  burying  all 
her  best  years  in  a  hermitage,  for  my  father,  as  you 
know,  is  always  engaged  and  I  — what  company  can  I 
be  for  her? — She  has  always  lived  in  the  best  society. — 
So  there  is  no  one  but  Mile.  Bourrienne.  .  .  ." 

"  I  do  not  like  your  Bourrienne." 

"  But  I  assure  you  she  is  very  kind,  and  very  nice, 
and  most  forlorn  —  she  has  no  one  in  the  world.  —  To 
tell  you  the  truth  she  is  in  my  way  more  often  than 


\r  WAR    AND    PEACE.  1 67 

she  is  of  use ;  I  have  always  been  a  rustic  and  I  prefer 
being  alone.  —  My  father  likes  her,  and  is  always 
kind  to  her  and  to  Michael  Ivanovitch  —  you  know 
'  \ve  like  people  in  .proportion  to  the  good  we  do 
them  and  not  to  the  good  they  do  us.'  My  father  took 
her  in  as  an  orphan  from  the  streets,  and  she  is  really 
a  very  good  soul.  —  He  likes  her  way  of  reading  and 
she  reads  aloud  to  him  every  evening." 

"  But  come,  Marie ;  you  must  suffer  cruelly  some- 
times from  my  father's  temper  ?" 

Marie,  astounded  at  the  question  could  only  stam- 
mer out :     "  I  .  .  .  suffer  ?" 

"  He  was  always  stern  and  now  he  must  be  desper- 
ately hard  to  get  on  with,"  Andre  went  on  to  try  his 
sister. 

"  You  are  good,  Andre,  very  good,  but  you  sin  in 
pride,"  she  said,  answering  her  own  thoughts,  as  it  were. 
"  How  can  you  allow  yourself  to  judge  in  such  a  way 
or  suppose  that  I  could  ever  feel  anything  but  reverence 
for  my  father  ?  I  am  quite  happy  and  contented  with 
him,  and  I  am  only  sorry  that  all  the  world  cannot 
share  my  lot." 

Her  brother  shook  his  head  incredulously.  "  One 
thing  only,"  she  went  on,  "  to  be  perfectly  honest, 
worries  and  distresses  me :  his  notions  about  religion.  I 
cannot  understand  how  so  clever  a  man  can  be  so  per- 
verse and  blind  as  to  discuss  questions  that  are  as  clear 
as  day.  That  is,  really  and  truly,  my  only  trouble.  At 
the  same  time  I  fancy  that  lately  I  have  observed  some 
slight  improvement;  his  satire  is  a  little  less  biting  and 


1 68  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

he  even  consented  to  see  a  monk  with  whom  he  had  a 
long  interview."^ 

"  Oh  ho  !  I  am  very  much  afraid  that  on  such 
points  you  and  your  monk  may  save  your  breath  to 
cool  your  porridge." 

'^  Well,  my  dear,  I  pray  with  all  my  heart  and  I 
hope  God  will  hear  me  .  .  .  Andre,"  she  added  timidly, 
"  I  want  to  ask  you  something." 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"Promise  me  that  you  will  consent  —  it  will  give 
you  no  trouble :  it  is  nothing  unworthy  of  you,  you 
may  be  sure,  and  it  will  be  the  greatest  comfort  to  me. 
Promise  me,  Andrioucha,"  and  putting  her  hand  into 
her  bag  she  took  out  some  small  object  which  she  held 
hidden  in  her  hand  as  not  daring  to  show  it  to  him  till 
he  had  answered  explicitly. 

"  Even  if  it  cost  me  a  real  sacrifice  I  would.  .  .  ." 

"  You  must  think  what  you  choose,  you  are  just  like 
my  father,  but  I  cannot  help  that.  Promise  me  I  beg 
and  pray :  our  grandfather  wore  it  in  all  the  battles  he 
fought  in,  and  you  will  wear  it,  will  you  not  ?" 

"  But  what  is  it  that  I  am  to  wear  ?" 

"  Andre,  this  little  image,  with  my  blessing  —  and 
promise  me  that  you  will  never  take  it  off." 

"  Simply  to  please  you,  I  will  promise  that,  if  it  is 
not  heavy  enough  to  break  my  neck,"  replied  Andre; 
but  seeing  his  sister's  grieved  look  at  this  ill-timed  jest, 
he  changed  his  tone :  "  To  be  sure,  my  dearest,"  he 
said,  ''  I  will  accept  it  with  pleasure." 

"  He  will  conquer  your  obduracy.  He  will  save  and 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  169 

pardon  you  and  lead  you  to  Himself,  for  He  alone  is 
truth  and  peace  !"  she  said  in  a  voice^  tremulous  with 
emotion,  and  with  an  action  of  devout  solemnity  she 
held  up  over  her  brother's  head  a  small  medallion 
blackened  by  time  and  wear.  It  was  an  oval  image  of 
the  Redeemer  mounted  in  silver  and  with  a  little  silver 
chain.  She  crossed  herself,  kissed  the  medaUion,  and 
held  it  to  him :  "  Do  it  for  my  sake,"  she  said. 

Her  fine  eyes  shone  with  a  softened  light  and  her 
pale,  thin  face  was  transfigured.  Andre  put  out  his 
hand  for  the  sacred  amulet,  but  she  drew  it  back.  He 
understood  and  kissed  it,  crossing  himself  at  the  same 
time  with  a  mixture  of  pathos  and  irony. 

"  Thank  you,  my  dearest,"  she  said,  and  she  sat 
down  again.  "  Be  kind  and  generous,  Andre,  do  not 
judge  Lisa  too  hardly  .  .  .  she  is  very  sweet  and  gentle, 
and  her  position  is  a  very  painful  one." 

"  But  I  cannot  see  what  fault  I  have  found  or  hinted 
at  in  my  wife,  Marie.  Why  do  you  take  this  tone  about 
it." 

Marie  colored  and  had  no  explanation  to  offer. 

"  But  granting  that  I  have  said  nothing,"  he  went 
on,  "  some  one  else  I  see  has  been  making  remarks,  and 
I  am  sorry  for  that." 

The  color  mounted  in  patches  to  her  face  and 
throat,  and  she  tried  in  vain  to  find  something  to  say, 
for  her  brother  had  guessed  rightly.  The  little  princess 
had  been  crying,  and  telling  her  of  all  her  terrors :  she 
should  die,  she  was  sure,  when  hev  child  was  born,  and 
she  was  very  miserable  and  very  miicli  to  be  pitied  — 


lyo  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

she  complained  of  her  lot,  of  her  father-in-law,  of  her 
husband;  and  then,  having  exhausted  herself  with 
weeping,  she  had  fallen  asleep. 

Prince  Andre  was  sorry  for  his  sister. 

"Listen,  Marie,"  he  said,  "I  have  nothing  to  blame 
my  wife  for — I  never  have  said  and  never  shall  say  a 
word  against  her.  I,  on  my  part,  have  never  done  her 
a  wrong  and  I  will  try  never  to  do  one. —  But  if  you 
want  to  know  the  truth,  to  know  wliether  I  am  happy .  . . 
no,  I  am  not.  Nor  is  she ;  but  why  I  know  not."  He 
turned  and  kissed  his  sister,  but  he  did  not  see  the 
loving  light  in  her  eyes,  for  his  own  were  fixed  on  the 
door  she  had  left  ajar. 

"We  must  go  to  her,  Marie;  I  must  bid  her  good- 
bye; or  rather,  if  you  will  go  in  and  wake  her  I  will 
follow  you. —  Petroucha,"  he  said  to  the  servant,  "  here, 
carry  down  all  these  things :  put  this  on  the  right  hand 
side  and  this  under  the  seat." 

Marie  went,  but  she  stopped  half-way: 

"Andre,  if  only  you  had  faith  you  would  have  turned 
to  God  and  implored  him  to  give  you  the  love  you  do 
not  feel;   He  would  have  heard  your  prayer." 

"Ah,  yes!  —  to  be  sure — perhaps. —  Go  on,  Marie, 
I  am  coming." 

A  few  minutes  after,  as  Prince  Andre  was  passing 
along  the  corridor  which  joined  the  wing  where  his 
wife  was  to  be  lodged  to  the  main  building,  he  met 
Mile.  Bourrienne,  crisp  and  smiling;  it  was  the  third 
time  that  day  that  she  had  crossed  his  path. 

"Oh!  I  thougbit  you  were  in  your  own  rooms,"  she 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  lyi 

said  blushing  and  looking  down.  Prince  Andre  looked 
excessively  annoyed  and  his  only  answer  was  a  glance 
of  such  supreme  contempt  that  she  stopped  quite 
abashed  and  vanished  at  once. 

As  he  went  towards  his  sister's  room  he  could  hear 
Lisa's  sprightly  tones ;  she  was  awake  and  prattling  as 
if  she  were  bound  to  make  up  for  lost  time. 

"Just  picture  to  yourself,  Marie,"  she  was  saying 
with  fits  of  laughter,  "old  Countess  Zoubow,  with  her 
false  curls  and  her  mouth  full  of  false  teeth,  as  if  she 
could  defy  old  age  .  .  .  ha,  ha,  ha!" 

It  was  at  least  the  fifth  time  that  Andre  had  heard 
her  tell  the  same  story.  He  went  in  softly  and  found 
her  quite  refreshed,  with  a  bright  color  in  her  cheeks^ 
and  comfortably  seated  in  a  deep  arm-chair  doing  some 
needle-work,  while  she  poured  out  her  unconnected 
reminiscences  of  St.  Petersburg.  He  affectionately 
stroked  her  hair  and  asked  her  if  she  felt  better. 

"Yes,  yes,"  she  said  and  went  on  with  her  story. 

The  travelling-carriage  with  six  horses  was  waiting 
at  the  door.  The  intense  darkness  of  an  autumn  night 
threw  its  shroud  over  even  tne  nearest  objects:  the 
coachman  could  hardly  see  the  pole  of  the  coach  round 
which  the  servants  were  busy  with  their  lanterns.  The 
house  was  lighted  up  inside  and  broad  beams  of  light 
were  shed  from  the  huge  front  windows.  All  the  house- 
hold had  gathered  in  the  hall  to  take  leave  of  the  young 
master,  while  a  little  party  of  intimates  had  assembled 
in  the  great  drawing-room.  Everyone  was  waiting  for 
Prince  Andre  who  had  gone  into  his  father's  room,  the 


172  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

old  prince  having  sent  for  him  to  speak  with  him 
alone. 

Andre,  on  going  in,  had  found  his  father  seated  at 
his  table  writing,  with  his  spectacles  on,  and  wrapped 
in  a  white  dressing-gown — a  costume  in  which,  as  a 
rule,  he  never  allowed  himself  to  be  seen.  He  looked 
up  at  his  son. 

*' You  are  off  then  ?"  he  said  and  he  began  to  write 
again. 

"Yes  —  I  have  come  to  say  good-bye." 

"Kiss  me," — and  he  offered  him  a  cheek  .... 
"Thank  you,  and  again  thank  you." 

"What  for?" 

"  For  not  stopping  at  home  tied  to  your  wife's  apron- 
strings.     The  service  before  all  things — so  thank  you." 

And  again  he  began  writing,  but  he  was  so  nervous 
that  his  pen  creaked  and  spluttered  in  every  direction. 
"  If  you  have  anything  you  want  to  say  I  am  listening." 

"My  wife — I  am  vexed  to  leave  her  herein  this 
way,  a  burden  on  your  hands." 

"What  next  will  you  say  ?  Say  something  more  to 
the  point."  * 

"  When  the  time  draws  near  send  to  Moscow  for  a 
doctor;  let  him  be  her*  in  time  .  .  . ." 

The  old  man  looked  at  his  son  in  stern  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Of  course  I  know  that  nothing  can  be  done  if 
nature  rebels  against  science,"  Andre  went  on,  not 
without  some  emotion;  "and  I  know  that  out  of  a 
thousand  such  cases  not  more  than  one  perhaps  goes 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  1 73. 

wrong,  but  it  is  her  fancy,  and  mine  too.  She  has  been 
crammed  with  all  sorts  of  notions  in  consequence  of  a 
dream." 

"  Hm  "  —  murmured  the  old  man  between  his  teeth. 
"  Well,  well,  I  will  see  to  it,"  then  he  signed  his  name 
with  a  determined  flourish.  "  It  is  a  bad  business^ 
heh  ?"  he  added  with  a  smile. 

"  What  is  a  bad  business  ?" 

"  Your  wife,"  said  the  old  man  bluntly. 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  Well,  my  boy,  you  see  they  are  all  alike,  and  you 
cannot  get  unmarried.  Do  not  be  afraid,  I  will  tell  no 
one,  but  you  know  it  as  well  as  I  do  —  it  is  the  truth." 
His  lean  bony  fingers  grasped  his  son's  hand  and  wrung 
it  firmly  while  his  piercing  eye  seemed  to  look  through 
him.  Prince  Andre's  answer  was  a  sigh  —  a  wordless 
confession. 

The  old  prince  folded  and  sealed  his  letters  in  no 
time. 

"  Well,  there  is  no  help  for  it,  and  she  is  very 
pretty.  Be  easy,  everything  shall  be  done,"  he  said 
briefly.  % 

Andre  said  no  more ;  he  was  distressed,  but  at  the 
same  time  glad  to  have  been  understood. 

*'  Do  not  worry  yourself  about  her;  all  that  is  pos- 
sible shall  be  done.  Now,  here  is  a  letter  for  MichaeL 
Illarionovitch ;  I  have  asked  him  to  give  you  good 
chances  and  not  to  keep  you  with  him  too  long.  You 
must  tell  him  that  I  remember  him  with  faithful  regard, 
and  let  me  know  how  he  receives  you.     If  you  are 


174  WAR   AND    PEACE, 

satisfied,  stay  with  him  and  do  your  best;  if  not,  leave 
him.  Nicolas  Bolkonsky's  son  cannot  remain  with  a 
chief  on  sufferance.  —  Come  here."  He  had  been 
speaking  very  rapidly  and  swallowing  half  his  words, 
but  his  son  understood  him;  he  followed  him  to  the 
desk  which  the  old  man  opened,  and  then  took  out  a 
note-book,  closely  written  in  a  small  hand  but  quite 
legible.  ^'  I  shall  probably  die  before  you ;  this  is  a , 
memorandum  to  be  sent  to  the  Emperor  after  my  death; 
and  this  is  a  letter  and  a  check.  It  is  a  prize  that  I 
intend  to  offer  for  a  history  of  Souvorow's  campaigns. 
Send  these  to  the  Academy ;  I  have  made  some  notes — 
you  can  read  them  when  I  am  gone ;  they  may  be  of 
use  to  you." 

Andre,  feeling  that  there  would  be  a  sort  of  indeli- 
cacy in  bidding  his  father  look  forward  to  a  long  Hfe, 
simply  said  : 

''Your  wishes  shall  be  implicitly  fulfilled." 

"  And  now  good-bye,"  said  the  old  prince  giving 
his  son  his  hand  to  kiss.  *'  Remember,  Prince  Andr6, 
that  if  death  overtakes  you  my  old  heart  must  bleed ; 
and  if  I  were  to  hear,'*he  added  looking  him  full  in  the 
face,  "  that  Nicolas  Bolkonsky's  son  had  failed  in  his 
duty,  I  should  be  ashamed  —  you  understand."  He 
hissed  out  the  last  words. 

"  You  might  have  saved  yourself  the  trouble  of 
telling  me  that,"  said  Andre  smiling.  "  I,  too,  have  a 
request  to  make :  if  I  should  fall,  and  if  a  son  should 
be  born  to  me,  keep  him  with  you,  have  him  brought 
up  here  I  beseech  you." 


WAR  AND    PEACE. 


175 


"  And  not  give  him  into  your  wife's  care  ?  .  .  .  " 

He  tried  to  laugh,  but  it  was  no  more  than  a 
nervous  quaver  of  his  chin. 

"  Now,  go.  ..."  he  said,  and  he  pushed  his  son  out 
of  the  room. 

'^  What  is  the  matter,  what  has  happened  ?"  ex- 
claimed the  two  ladies,  seeing  the  old  prince  in  his 
dressing-gown  without  his  wig  and  with  his  spectacles 
on ;  but  he  instantly  disappeared. 

Prince  Andre  sighed  :  ''  Well  ?"  he  said  to  his  wife, 
in  a  cold,  slightly  sarcastic  tone,  as  if  he  were  bidding 
her  carry  on  her  usual  little  airs. 

"Andre,  already !"  The  little  princess  turned  pale 
with  terrors  and  agitation ;  he  bent  over  her  and  kissed 
her ;  she  gave  a  cry  and  fainted  away.  He  raised  her 
head  which  dropped  on  his  shoulder  and  gently  placed 
her  in  the  arm-chair. 

"  Good-bye,  Marie,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice ;  their 
hands  clasped  warmly,  he  kissed  her  forehead  and  hur- 
ried away.  Mile.  Bourrienne  was  chafing  the  princess's 
temples  while  Marie  held  her  up  and  sent  a  last  glance 
of  love  and  blessing  after  her  brother,  from  eyes  full  of 
tears.  The  old  prince,  in  his  study,  was  blowing  his 
nose  so  often  and  with  so  much  vehemence  that  it 
sounded  like  a  succession  of  ferocious  pistol-shots. 
Suddenly  he  put  his  head  into  tlie  room  : 

"  He  is  gone.  —  Come,  it  is  just  as  well.  ..."  Then, 
seeing  the  little  woman  unconscious,  he  shook  liis  head 
angrily  and  went  quickly  into  his  own  room  again, 
slamming  the  door  after  him. 


176  WAR   AND    PEACE. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

In  October,  1805,  the  Russian  army  was  quartered 
in  certain  towns  and  villages  in  Austria.  Every  day 
fresh  regiments  were  coming  in,  and  their  presence  there 
was  a  heavy  burden  on  the  country  and  the  inhabitants. 
These  troops,  constantly  increasing  in  number,  were 
being  concentrated  round  the  fortress  of  Braunau,  the 
headquarters  of  j^.ou,touzow,  the  comniander-in-chief. 

It  was  the  nth  of  October,  and  a  regiment  of 
infantry  that  had  just  arrived  had  stopped  at  about 
half  a  mile  from  the  town.  It  had  borrowed  nothing 
that  could  affect  its  appearance  from  the  country  which 
formed  a  background  to  the  scene;  in  the  midst  of 
orchards,  stone  walls,  and  tiled  roofs,  with  more  distant 
mountains  on  the  horizon,  it  was  an  essentially  Russian 
crowd  of  soldiers,  preparing  to  be  inspected  by  the 
commandant. 

The  order  to  make  ready  for  this  inspection  had 
been  forwarded  the  day  before  to  the  last  encampment; 
but  as  there  was  something  inexact  in  the  announce- 
ment, the  officer  in  command  of  the  regiment  had  called 
a  litde  council  of  officers  to  decide  on  the  details.  Were 
they  to  appear  in  marching  order  or  in  parade  dress  ? 
That  was  the  question.  Votes  were  in  favor  of  the 
latter:  too  great  zeal  would  be  better  than  too  little.  The 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  I77 

soldiers  set  to  work,  and  though  they  had  marched 
thirty  hours  that  day,  not  one  closed  an  eye  that  night; 
everything  was  cleaned,  mended  and  furbished  up.  The 
aicjes-de-camp  and  captains  called  the  roll  of  their  men, 
and  when  day  broke  their  satisfied  eyes  rested  on  a 
compact  mass  of  2000  men,  all  drawn  up  in  close  order, 
Avhere  last  night  there  had  been  a  slovenly  mob.  Each 
one  was  at  his  post  and  knew  what  he  had  to  do ;  not 
a  button  or  a  strap  was  wanting ;  everything  shone  and 
glittered  in  the  sunshine. 

All  was  in  readiness  and  the  general  might  inspect 
or  examine  any  man  in  the  ranks,  for  every  shirt  was 
clean  and  every  knapsack  contained  the  regulation  kit. 
One  detail  only  was  not  wholly  satisfactory :  their 
shoes,  which  were  in  ribbands;  the  regiment,  to  be 
sure,  had  marched  a  thousand  versts,  and  the  commis- 
sariat turned  a  deaf  ear  to  the  repeated  applications 
sent  up  by  the  officer  in  command  of  the  regiment  for 
a  supply  of  the  necessary  materials.  This  officer  was  a 
burly  general  of  advanced  age  and  sanguine  tempera- 
ment; square-shouldered,  with  grizzled  whiskers  and 
eyebrows.  His  uniform  was  new  and  splendid,  though 
it  bore  the  inevitable  traces  of  its  long  sojourn  in  a 
valise ;  the  heavy  epaulettes  raised  his  shoulders  to  the 
sky.  He  marched  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  ranks 
with  an  important  waddle,  leaning  forward  a  little,  and 
looking  like  a  man  who  is  happily  conscious  of  having 
fulfilled  a  solemn  function.  He  was  proud  of  his  regi- 
ment, to  which  he  was  devoted  heart  and  soul;  his 
gait,  however,  betrayed  perhaps  some  other  absorbing 

Vol.  I.  la 


178  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

cares,  for,  besides  his  military  responsibilities,  the  inter- 
ests of  the  world  at  large,  and  of  the  fair  sex  in  particu- 
lar, filled  a  large  place  in  his  thoughts. 

"  Well,  my  dear  Michael  Dmitrievitch,"  he  said  to  a 
major  who  came  towards  him  with  an  equally  satisfied 
smile.  ...  "A  hard  night's  work,  heh  ?  Our  regiment 
makes  not  a  bad  show  .  .  .  not  one  of  the  worst,  heh  ?" 
The  major  seemed  to  rehsh  his  superior's  jest  and 
laughed. 

"  Certainly  not.  We  should  not  be  turned  away 
even  from  the  Champ  de  Mars."  * 

"  What  is  it  ?"  cried  the  general,  catching  sight  of 
two  horsemen,  an  aide-de-camp  and  a  Cossack,  riding 
towards  him  down  the  high-road  from  the.  town,  along 
which  foot-soldiers  were  posted  at  intervals  as  scouts. 
The  officer,  who  had  been  sent  from  headquarters  to 
explain  the  order  issued  the  day  before,  announced  that 
the  commander-in-chief  wished  to  inspect  the  regiment 
in  marching  order,  and  without  any  preparation  or  dis- 
play :  a  member  of  the  council  of  war  had  arrived  from 
Vienna  the  day  before  to  desire  Koutouzow  to  join  the 
army  under  Archduke  Frederick  and  Mack  as  soon  as 
possible :  this  did  not  at  all  meet  Koutouzow's  views, 
and  to  support  his  objections  he  was  anxious  that  the 
Austrian  himself  should  be  able  to  report  on  the 
miserable  state  of  the  Russian  troops  after  their  long 
march. 

The  aide-de-camp,  however,  did  not  know  this ;  he 

*  The  parade  ground  in  Paris  where  Napoleon  reviewed  his 
troops. 


WAR  AND    PEACE.  1 79 

could  only  explain  that  the  commander-in-chief  would 
be  greatly  annoyed  not  to  find  the  men  in  marching 
order.  The  poor  general  hung  his  head,  shrugged  his 
shoulders  and  wrung  his  hands  in  despair. 

"  That  is  just  the  way.  —  Did  not  I  say  so,  Michael 
Dmitrievitch !  —  Marching  order,  in  great-coats,"  he 
added  turning  angrily  to  the  major.  "  Good  God  !  Gen- 
tlemen— sergeants-major!" he  exclaimed  in  a  voice 

accustomed  to  command,  and  he  advanced  a  step.  — 
^'  Will  his  excellency  be  here  soon  ?"  he  asked  the  aide- 
de-camp  with  respectful  deference. 

"  In  about  an  hour,  I  fancy." 

"  Shall  we  have  time  to  get  into  marching  order  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know.  ..."  The  commanding  officer 
went  forward  and  gave  his  orders.  The  majors  trotted 
off,  sergeants-major  bestirred  themselves,  and  in  an  in- 
stant the  compact  squares,  till  then  silent  and  motion- 
less, broke  up  and  dispersed ;  the  soldiers  rushed  about 
in  every  direction,  strapping  their  knapsacks  on  to  their 
shoulders,  flinging  up  their  capotes  and  getting  their 
arms  into  them  as  fast  as  they  could. 

"  What  is  that  ?  What  is  that  ?"  cried  the  general. 
"  Captain  of  the  third  company !" 

"  Third  company.  —  The  general  wants  the  captain 
of  the  third  company,"  was  repeated  by  several,  and  an 
aide-de-camp  flew  to  hurry  up  the  delinquent.  In  the 
frenzy  of  zeal  and  general  scare  some  had  even  called 
out :  "  The  company  wants  the  general !"  when  finally  the 
outcry  reached  the  ears  of  the  absentee,  a  man  of  middle 
age.     He  could  not  run,  but  he  was  coming  along  at  a 


l8o  WAR  AND    PEACE. 

sort  of  short  trot,  on  the  tip  of  his  rather  tottering  feet. 
It  was  plain  that  the  elderly  captain  was  as  uneasy  as  a 
schoolboy  who  foresees  a  question  he  cannot  answer. 
His  nose  was  purple  and  spotted  with  the  traces  of  in- 
temperance ;  his  lips  quivered  with  nervousness ;  he 
panted  and  slackened  his  pace  as  he  came  up  to  the 
general  who  scanned  him  from  head  to  foot. 

"  You  make  your  men  wear  fancy  dress  do  you  ? 
AVhat  is  the  meaning  of  that  ?"  he  asked,  pointing  to  a 
soldier  of  the  third  company  whose  cloak  was  a  glarmg 
contrast  in  color  to  the  rest  of  his  dress.  "  Where  were 
you  hiding :  the  commander-in-chief  is  expected  and 
you  are  not  at  your  post,  heh  ?  I  will  teach  you  to 
dress  your  men  like  that  for  a  review." 

The  captain  never  took  his  eyes  off  his  chief,  while 
more  and  more  discomfited,  he  held  two  fingers  to  the 
peak  of  his  shako  as  if  the  salute  might  be  the  saving 
of  him. 

"  Well,  why  do  not  you  answer  ?  And  that  one  — 
dressed  up  as  a  Hungarian  —  who  is  he  ?" 

"  Your  Excellency.  .  .  ." 

"  Well,  what  then  ?  You  may  go  on  repeating  'Your 
Excellency  '  in  every  key  —  what  next  ?  What  is  the 
meaning  of  *  Your  Excellency  ?'  tell  me  that." 

*'  Your  Excellency,  that  is  Dologhow,  the  man  who 
was  degraded,"  stammered  the  captain. 

"  Degraded !  Then  he  is  not  a  field  marshal  that 
he  should  take  such  liberties.  He  is  a  private  and  a 
private  should  be  dressed  according  to  regulations." 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  l8l 

"  But  you  yourself  authorized  him  to  dress  so  while 
on  the  march." 

"  Authorized,  authorized  !  That  is  always  the  way 
with  you  youngsters  !"  said  the  general,  quieting  down 
a  Httle,  ''  we  give  an  inch  and  you  take  .  .  .  what  next!" 
and  he  fired  up  afresh.     "  Dress  your  men  properly]" 

Then  he  turned  to  Koutouzow's  envoy  and  went  on 
with  his  inspection,  satisfied  with  his  little  explosion  and 
seeking  an  excuse  for  another.  An  ofiicer's  stock  came 
under  suspicion  and  he  blew  the  wearer  up  smartly ; 
then  the  front  rank  of  the  third  company  not  being 
accurately  dressed,  he  called  out  in  agitated  tones  to 
Dologhow  who  wore  a  bluish-grey  capote  : 

"  Where  is  your  foot  ?  —  where  is  your  foot  ?" 

Dologhow  deliberately  drew  it  back,  fixing  a  keen, 
bold  eye  on  the  general. 

"And  why  that  blue  cloak  ?  Take  it  off!  Sergeant- 
major  undress  this  man." 

"  It  is  my  duty.  General,  to  obey  orders,"  said 
Dologhow  interrupting  him,  "  but  I  am  not  forced  to 
submit.  .  .  ." 

"  Not  a  word  in  the  ranks. —  Not  a  word !" 

"  I  am  not  forced  to  submit  to  insult,"  Dologhow 
went  on  in  a  loud  voice.  —  And  he  looked  straight 
into  the  eyes  of  his  commanding  officer.  The  general 
stopped  and  pulled  at  his  scarf. 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  change  your  dress,"  he  said 
furiously ;  and  he  turned  away. 

"  They  are  coming !"  cried  one  of  the  outposts,  and 
the  general,  crimson  with  excitement,  ran  to  his  horse, 


l82  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

seized  the  bridle  with  a  trembhng  hand,  jumped  in  the 
saddle  and  drew  his  sword  with  triumphant  determina- 
tion ;  then  he  sat  with  his  mouth  open  ready  to  give 
the  word  of  command.  A  wave,  as  it  were,  ran  through 
the  mass  of  soldiers;  then  they  were  perfectly  still. 

"  Silence  in  the  ranks !"  cried  the  general  in  a  ring- 
ing voice,  in  which  satisfaction  and  command  were 
curiously  mingled  with  deference,  for  the  grandees  were 
drawing  near.  A  high  Vienna  chariot,  hung  on  springs 
and  painted  blue,  was  coming  down  the  wide  country 
road  shaded  by  trees,  with  a  mounted  escort  and  a 
company  of  Cossacks.  The  Austrian  general's  white 
uniform,  as  he  sat  by  the  side  of  Koutouzow,  was  con- 
spicuous in  contrast  to  the  dark  Russian  uniforms. 
The  carriage  stopped,  the  two  generals  ceased  talking 
and  Koutouzow  got  out,  slowly  and  heavily,  without 
seeming  to  pay  any  heed  to  the  two  thousand  men 
whose  eyes  were  fixed  on  him  and  on  their  general. 
At  the  word  of  command  the  regiment  started  like  one 
man  and  presented  arms.  The  voice  of  the  commander- 
in-chief  was  audible  in  the  death-like  silence  that  en- 
sued, then  a  shout  of  "  Long  live  your  Excellency !" 
rang  out  in  response  to  his  salute  and  silence  fell  again. 
Koutouzow,  who  had  stood  waiting  while  the  regiment 
had  gone  through  this  little  commotion,  walked  down 
the  ranks  with  the  Austrian  general.  The  way  in  which 
the  inferior  general  had  received  his  chief,  and  now  fol- 
lowed him  with  his  head  bent,  watching  his  every  move- 
ment and  pricking  up  his  ears  at  the  least  word,  plainly 
showed  that  the  duty  was  congenial  to  him.     Thanks 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  1 83 

to  his  Strict  discipline  and  good  care  his  regiment  was 
in  fact  in  far  better  order  than  any  that  had  lately  ar- 
rived at  Braunau :  only  217  men  were  missing,  sick  or 
laggards,  and  everything  was  in  good  trim,  excepting, 
of  course,  shoe-leather. 

Koutouzow  stopped  now  and  then  to  speak  a  few 
Avords  to  the  officers  and  soldiers  he  had  known  in  the 
campaign  in  Turkey.  Looking  at  their  boots  he  shook 
his  head  sadly,  and  pointed  them  out  to  his  companion 
with  a  look  which  implied  much  and  saved  him  the 
trouble  of  making  any  direct  comments ;  each  time  he 
did  this  the  commander  of  the  regiment  rushed  forward, 
as  if  to  catch  the  observations  he  expected  him  to 
make.  A  score  of  officers  forming  the  great  man's 
suite,  followed  a  few  paces  behind  with  one  ear  open 
while  they  talked  and  laughed  among  themselves.  An 
aide-de-camp,  a  handsome  young  fellow,  walked  close 
to  Koutouzow ;  this  was  Prince  Andre  Bolkonsky.  At 
his  side  came  the  tall  and  stalwart  Nesvitsky,  a  superior 
officer,  with  a  sweet,  smiling  face  and  kindly  eyes. 
Nesvitsky  was  doing  his  best  to  suppress  a  fit  of  laughter 
caused  by  the  antics  of  one  of  his  companions,  a  dark 
complexioned  hussar,  who,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
back  of  the  regiment's  commander,  was  repeating  every 
one  of  his  gestures  with  imperturbable  gravity. 

Koutouzow  walked  Avith  leisurely  indifference  in  front 
of  the  thousand  eyes  that  seem.ed  ready  to  start  from 
their  sockets  to  see  him  better. 

"Ah!  Timokhine!"  he  exclaimed,  recognizing  the 
ruddy-nosed  captain. 


1 84  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

Timokhine,  who  seemed  to  have  drawn  himself  up 
to  his  utmost  height  during  the  general's  scolding  about 
Dologhow,  managed  nevertheless  to  pull  himself  up  a 
little  higher  still  when  the  commander-in-chief  ad- 
dressed him,  till  it  really  seemed  that  the  tension,  if 
prolonged,  might  prove  fatal.  Koutouzow  detected 
this,  and  to  relieve  him  turned  away,  while  a  faint  smile 
wandered  over  his  scarred  features. 

*' Another  comrade  in  arms  at  Ismail,"  he  said.  "A 
brave  officer. —  Are  you  satisfied  with  him  ?" 

He  spoke  to  the  commander  of  the  regiment  who, 
never  suspecting  that  an  invisible  double,  in  the  person 
of  the  swarthy  hussar,  was  repeating  him  from  head  to 
foot,  started  and  stepped  forward  saying :  "  Quite  satis- 
fied, your  Excellency." 

"  Every  man  has  his  weak  point,  and  he,  I  fancy,  is 
a  son  of  Bacchus,"  added  Koutouzow  as  he  moved 
away.  Fearful  lest  he  should  be  held  responsible,  the 
liapless  general  made  no  reply.  Meanwhile  the  young 
liussar,  who  had  been  struck  by  the  appearance  of  the 
worthy  son  of  Bacchus,  with  his  red  nose  and  his 
strained  erectness,  imitated  him  so  exactly  that  Nes- 
vitsky  exploded  with  laughter.  Koutouzow  turned 
round,  but  the  mimic  had  a  perfect  command  of  counte- 
nance and  his  grimaces  turned,  as  if  by  magic,  to  an 
expression  of  respectful  gravity. 

The  third  company  was  the  last.  Koutouzow  paused 
meditating,  evidently  trying  to  remember  something. 
Prince  Andre  stepped  forward  and  said  to  him  in 
French  and  in  an  undertone : 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  1 85 

"You  desired  me  to  remind  you  of  Dologhow  — 
the  man  who  was  degraded  ,  .  .  ." 

*'  Where  is  Dologhow  ?"  said  the  commander 
promptly. 

Dologhow,  now  wearing  a  soldier's  regulation  grey 
coat,  came  forward  at  once,  stepping  from  the  rank  and 
presenting  arms;  he  was  a  fine-looking  soldier  no 
doubt,  well  built,  fair  haired,  with  clear  blue  eyes. 

"  A  complaint  ?"  said  Koutouzow  frowning  slightly. 

"  No  —  this  is  Dologhow,"  said  Prince  Andr6. 

"Ah!  —  Well  I  hope  you  will  profit  by  this  lesson; 
do  your  duty  in  the  service.  The  Emperor  is  merciful, 
and  I  will  not  forget  you  either  if  you  deserve  well." 

Dologhow's  keen  blue  eyes  looked  as  boldly  into 
Koutouzow's  as  they  had  into  those  of  his  superior  of- 
ficer; their  expression  seemed  to  ignore  the  gulf  of  eti- 
quette which  divides  a  private  from  a  commander-in- 
chief. 

"I  only  ask  one  thing,  your  Excellency,"  he  said  in 
his  steady  ringing  voice :  "  Give  me  the  opportunity  of 
wiping  out  the  record,  and  of  proving  my  devotion  to 
the  emperor  and  my  country." 

Koutouzow  turned  away  and  went  to  his  carriage 
with  sullen  dissatisfaction  ;  these  commonplace  phrases, 
always  the  same,  bored  and  wearied  him. 

"  What  is  the  use,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  of  answers 
in  this  strain,  of  saying  the  same  thing  over  and  over 
again  ?" 

The  regiment  broke  up  into  com})anies  and  marched 


l86  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

forward  towards  Braunau  to  find  quarters,  to  renew  its 
outfit,  to  get  shoes,  and  to  rest. 

"  You  are  not  vexed  with  me  I  hope,  Prokhore  Ig- 
natovitch,"  said  the  general  in  command  to  the  captain 
of  the  third  company  as  he  rode  past.  His  face  was 
radiant  with  satisfaction  at  having  got  through  the  in- 
spection so  well : 

"  In  the  Emperor's  service  you  know  .  .  .  And  then 
one  is  afraid  of  disgracing  oneself  in  the  face  of  the 
whole  regiment ;  but  I  am  always  the  first  to  apolo- 
gize. .  .  ."  and  he  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Indeed,  General,  how  could  I  for  a  moment 
think.  .  .  ."  The  captain's  nose  turned  plum-color  with 
joy  and  his  mouth,  widening  to  a  grin  from  ear  to  ear, 
displayed  his  irregular  teeth  —  two  of  his  front  teeth 
having  been  broken  out  in  the  attack  on  Ismail. 

"Tell  M.  Dologhow,  too,  that  I  will  not  forget  him — 
to  be  quite  easy.     How  does  he  behave,  by  the  way  ?" 

"  He  is  punctual  in  his  duty,  your  Excellency,  but 
his  temper.  ..." 

"  What  about  his  temper  ?" 

"  He  has  fits  of  it.  —  Some  days  he  is  quiet,  intelli- 
gent, well-informed;  at  other  times  he  is  a  perfect  wild 
beast.  Quite  lately  you  know  he  was  within  an  ace  of 
killing  a  Jew  in  Poland  —  you  heard  of  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes.  .  .  ."  said  the  general.  "  But  he  has  been 
very  unfortunate  —  he  is  much  to  be  pitied  ...  he  has 
influential  friends;  you  will  be  wise  to.  ..." 

"  Exactly  so,  your  Excellency,"  and  the  captain's 
smile  showed  that  he  had  quite  understood  the  hint. 


WAR    AND   PEACE.  1 87 

"  You  may  win  your  epaulettes  in  the  first  fight !" 
cried  the  general,  aiming  the  words  at  Dologhow  as  he 
marched  past.  Dologhow  looked  round  with  a  sar- 
castic smile  but  said  nothing. 

"  Good,  very  good!"  the  general  went  on,  so  as  to 
be  heard  by  all  the  men.  "  An  allowance  of  brandy  for 
each  of  you,  and  I  thank  you  each  and  all  —  God  be 
praised !"     And  he  rode  off  to  the  next  company. 

"  He  is  a  capital  fellow;  after  all,  one  can  manage 
to  serve  under  him !"  said  the  red-nosed  captain  to  a 
subaltern  officer. 

"  In  short  '  the  King  of  Hearts,'  "  said  the  subal- 
tern, laughing  as  he  quoted  the  nickname  given  to  the 
old  general.  The  happy  issue  of  the  inspection  had 
put  the  officers  into  a  good  temper  which  soon  spread 
among  the  soldiers.  They  marched  briskly  onward^ 
talking  as  they  went. 

'*  Who  invented  the  story  that  Koutouzow  was  blind 
of  one  eye  ?" 

"  For  the  matter  of  that,  so  he  is." 

"  For  the  matter  of  that,  not  a  bit  of  it ;  from  our 
boots  to  our  screw-drivers,  he  inspected  everything." 

"What  a  fright  I  was  in  when  he  looked  at  mine !" 

"  And  the  other  one  —  the  Austrian.  What  do  you 
think  of  him  ?  A  lump  of  chalk  —  a  sack  of  flour.  — 
What  a  job  it  must  be  to  whiten  all  that !" 

"  I  say,  you  —  you  were  in  front.  When  did  they 
say  we  should  come  to  fighting  ?  We  certainly  heard 
that  Napoleon  was  here,  at  Braunau." 

"  Napoleon   here !      What   nonsense  !      You   idiot. 


l88  WAR  AND    PEACE. 

don't  you  know  that  the  Prussian  has  turned  tail  and 
tlie  Austrian  must  walk  over  him  —  then,  when  he  has 
thrashed  him  he  will  begin  to  fight  Bonaparte.  Here  ? 
Tell  that  to  the  marines !  Bonaparte  at  Braunau !  what 
a  ninny  you  must  be !     Keep  your  ears  open,  gaby." 

"  Plague  take  these  quarter-masters  !  There  !  the  fifth 
company  has  turned  off  into  the  village  and  the  pot 
will  be  boiling  before  we  get  there !" 

"  Come,  give  me  a  crust  at  any  rate." 

"  And  I  gave  you  some  tobacco  last  night  —  come, 
didn't  I  ?  —  Well,  take  your  crust  —  here." 

"  If  they  would  only  let  us  stop !  —  not  a  bit  of  it ; 
five  versts  more  to  carry  an  empty  stomach." 

"  Ah  !  what  would  just  suit  you  would  be  a  lift  in  one 
of  these  Germans'  carriages  :  that  would  be  something 
like,  heh  ?" 

"  And  the  people  hereabout. — Did  you  notice  ?  Not 
the  same  as  ours ;  the  Poles  at  any  rate  were  our  Em- 
peror's people,  but  here  there  are  Germans  and  nothing 
else  wherever  you  go." 

"  Singers  to  the  front !"  shouted  an  officer,  and  a 
score  or  so  of  soldiers  stepped  out  of  the  ranks.  The 
drummer  who  led  the  singing  faced  about  and  started  a 
song  beginning : 

"  It  is  the  morning  drum,  the  sun  is  risen." 

And  ending  with  the  words  : 

"  And  we  shall  have  our  fill  of  glory  under  our 
father  Kamensky." 

This  song,  composed  in  Turkey,  now  rang  out 
on   Austrian    soil;    the    only    change    was    that    the 


WAR   AND   PEACE.  189 

name  of  Koutouzow  was  substituted  for  that  of  Ka- 
mensky.  When  he  had  boldly  given  out  these  last 
words,  the  drummer,  who  was  a  handsome  fellow  of 
about  forty,  and  of  wiry  build,  looked  at  his  comrades 
with  a  searching  frown,  -Jirhile  his  hands  jerked  to  right 
and  left,  and  seemed  to  fling  some  invisible  object  on 
the  ground.  Having  made  quite  sure  that  they  were 
all  watching  him,  he  gently  raised  his  arms  and  held 
them  for  some  seconds  steadily  above  his  head,  as  if  he 
were  carrying  this  precious  and  invisible  treasure  with 
the  greatest  care.  Suddenly  throwing  it  down  he  gave 
out :  "  My  home,  my  dear  little  home,"  and  twenty 
voices  took  it  up  in  chorus.  Then  another  soldier  rushed 
forward,  and  without  seeming  in  the  least  embarrassed 
by  the  weight  of  his  kit,  began  to  jump  and  dance, 
going  backwards  all  the  time  in  front  of  the  rest,  wrig- 
gling his  shoulders  and  flourishing  a  couple  of  spoons 
which  he  rattled  like  castanets  with  an  air  of  defiance. 
The  rest  marched  in  quick  time. 

Behind  them  came  a  sound  of  wheels  and  horses — 
Koutouzow  and  his  suite  returning  to  the  town.  He 
gave  a  sign  that  the  soldiers  were  to» march  on  without 
stopping  on  his  account.  In  the  second  rank  of  the 
right-hand  file,  which  the  high  chariot  passed  close  to, 
JDolfighQW.,.  the  blue-eyed  private,  was  a  conspicuous 
figure ;  his  light  measured  gait,  at  once  graceful  and 
bold,  his  audacious,  mocking  glance,  which  seemed  a 
challenge  to  the  riders  who  passed  him  by,  expressed 
his  pity  for  those  who  could  not  go  on  foot  like  himself 
and  his  jolly  comrades.     Gerkow,  the  sub-lieutenant  of 


IQO  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

hussars  who  had  amused  himself  by  mimicking  the 
general,  reined  in  his  horse  to  get  within  speaking  dis- 
tance of  Dologhow;  though  he  had  been  one  of  the 
fast  young  fellows  among  whom  Dologhow  had  been 
the  ringleader — till  this  moi^ent  he  had  prudently 
refrained  from  betraying  his  acquaintance  with  a  man, 
who  had  been  degraded ;  but  Koutouzow's  words  had 
led  him  to  change  his  tactics  and  it  was  with  an  affecta- 
tion of  eager  pleasure  that  he  said  : 

"Well,  and  how  are  you  getting  on,  my  dear  fellow  ?" 

"As  you  see,"' said  Dologhow  coldly. 

The  gay  brisk  tune  of  the  soldier's  song  was  a  sin- 
gular accompaniment  to  Gerkow's  odd  familiarity,  and 
his  ex-friend's  icy  replies. 

"And  you  get  on  with  your  chiefs  ?" 

"Oh,  yes  —  well  enough;  they  are  very  good  fel- 
lows. And  you  have  squeezed  your  way  into  a  staff 
appointment?" 

"Yes,  I  am  attached  —  on  duty." 

Then  they  were  both  silent:  "The  hawk  is  thrown 
off  from  the  right  hand!"  the  song  went  on,  and  the 
mere  sound  of  it  seemed  to  revive  confidence  and  de- 
termination. Their  conversation  would  undoubtedly 
have  taken  a  different  turn  but  for  that  lively  accompa- 
niment. 

"Are  the  Austrians  really  beaten?  Is  it  true?" 
asked  Dologhow. 

"  So  they  say,  but  who  the  devil  can  tell  ?" 

"So  much  the  better,"  said  Dologhow  shortly,  to 
the  time  of  the  song. 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  19I 

''Come  into  our  place  this  evening,  will  you?  We 
shall  have  a  faro  table." 

"You  have  plenty  of  money  then?" 

"Come,  at  any  rate." 

"Impossible.  I  have  vowed  neither  to  play  nor 
drink  till  I  have  regained  my  rank." 

"Very  well;  after  the  first  fight  then." 

"Very  well;  we  will  see." 

"  But  look  in  all  the  same :  if  you  want  anything  the 
staff  will  help  you." 

Dologhow  smiled. 

"Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  me;  I  shall  ask  for 
nothing.     What  I  want  I  shall  take." 

"All  right — I  only  just  meant .  .  .  ." 

"Exactly — and  1  only  just  meant  .  .  . ." 

"Good-bye!" 

"  Good-bye  !" 

And  louder  but  more  distant  the  song  rang  out :  "At 
home,  in  the  fatherland,"  as  Gerkow  spurred  his  horse. 
And  the  horse,  covered  with  foam  and  galloping  to  the 
measure  of  the  music,  soon  outstripped  the  infantry  and 
fell  into  place  near  the  chariot. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

KouTOUZow,  as  soon  as  he  reached  home,  went  to 
his  private  room;    there  he  made   his  aide-de-camp, 


[92 


WAR  AND    PEACE. 


Prince  Bolkonsky,  give  him  various  papers  relating  to 
the  state  of  the  troops  and  some  letters  received  the 
day  before  from  Archduke  Ferdinand,  in  command  of 
the  regiments  of  the  advanced  army.  A  map  lay  on 
the  table,  in  front  of  which  the  commander-in-chief  was 
sitting  with  a  member  of  the  supreme  council  of  war. 
While  he  took  the  papers  from  Bolkonsky's  hand  and 
signed  to  him  to  remain  in  the  room,  he  went  on  with 
his  conversation  in  French,  speaking  slowly  and  with  a 
polish  of  phraseology  and  inflection  which  were  ex- 
tremely pleasing;  nay,  he  evidently  took  pleasure  in 
listening  to  himself. 

"  You  have  my  only  answer.  General,"  he  said,  ''  If 
the  matter  in  question  had  concerned  no  one  but  my- 
self, his  Majesty,  the  Emperor  Francis  should  have 
been  instantly  obeyed,  and  I  would  have  joined  the 
Archduke  at  once.  Pray  believe  me  when  I  say  that  I 
would  gladly  have  resigned  the  command  of  our  army 
and  the  heavy  responsibility  that  has  been  laid  upon 
me,  to  place  it  in  the  hands  of  one  of  the  distinguished 
and  capable  generals  who  swarm  in  the  Austrian  army, 
and  to  whom  I  am  so  entirely  inferior ;  but  our  actions 
are  often  fettered  by  circumstances." 

The  smile  with  which  he  spoke  the  last  words  fully 
justified  the  Austrian  officer's  visible  incredulity.  As  to 
Koutouzow  he  was  sure  of  not  being  contradicted  to  his 
face  and  that,  to  him,  was  the  chief  point;  he  cared 
little  for  anything  beyond.  His  companion  had  no 
choice  but  to  adopt  the  same  tone ;  but  his  voice  be- 
trayed his  ill-humor  in  whimsical  contrast  to  the  flatter- 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  1 93 

ing  speeches  he  had  prepared  beforehand  and  now 
brought  out  with  an  effort. 

"  On  the  contrary  :  the  Emperor  highly  appreciates 
all  that  your  Excellency  has  done  for  our  common  in- 
terests; the  only  thing  is  that  the  slowness  of  your  ad- 
vance prevents  your  brave  Russian  soldiers  and  their 
leaders  from  winning  the  laurels  they  are  accustomed 
to  reap." 

Koutouzow  bowed,  still  with  that  ironical  smile. 

"  I  cannot  share  your  opinion ;  I  am  quite  certain 
on  the  contrary  from  the  letter  that  Archduke  Ferdi- 
nand has  done  me  the  honor  of  writing  to  me,  that  the 
Austrian  army,  under  the  command  of  so  experienced 
a  leader  as  General  Mack,  is  at  this  moment  triumphant, 
and  that  you  have  no  further  need  of  our  assistance." 

The  Austrian  found  some  difficulty  in  containing 
his  rage;  Koutouzow's  observation  was  not,  in  fact,  in 
harmony  with  the  rumors  which  were  rife  of  an  Aus- 
trian defeat,  only  too  probable  indeed  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. The  speech  had  the  color  of  an  ill-timed 
jest  and  yet  the  commander-in-chief,  calm  and  smiling, 
had  every  right  to  assume  the  facts,  since  Mack's  last 
despatch  spoke  of  an  impending  victory  and  praised  in 
high  terms  the  position  held  by  his  army,  from  a  strat- 
egical point  of  view. 

"Hand  me  the  letter,"  he  said  to  Prince  Andre. 
"  Listen  to  this  .  .  ."  and  he  read : 

"The  strength  of  our  army  —  about  70,000  men  — 
enables  us  to  attack  and  defeat  the  enemy  if  he  attempts 
to  pass  the  Lech.     On  the  other  hand,'  as  we  hold 

Vol  I.  13 


194 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


Ulm,  we  remain  masters  of  both  banks  of  the  Danube : 
we  can  cross  it  if  necessary,  fall  on  the  enemy,  cut  off 
his  communications  and  recross  the  river  lower  down, 
and  so  finally  prevent  his  turning  the  main  body  of  his 
forces  against  our  faithful  allies.  Thus  we  can  bravely 
await  the  moment  when  the  Imperial  troops  of  Russia 
are  ready  to  join  us  in  inflicting  on  the  enemy  the  fate 
he  deserves."  As  he  ended  this  elaborate  rhodomon- 
tade  Koutouzow  looked  up  and  sighed. 

**  Your  Excellency  must  be  aware  that  a  wise  man 
is  prepared  for  the  worst,"  replied  his  interlocutor, 
anxious  to  put  an  end  to  this  irony  and  attack  the 
question  seriously;  he  involuntarily  glanced  at  the 
aide-de-camp. 

"  One  moment  —  pray  excuse  me.  .  .  ."  and  Kou- 
touzow, interrupting  him,  turned  to  Prince  Andr^. 

"  Would  you,  my  dear  fellow,  ask  Kozlovsky  for  the 
reports  of  all  our  spies.  —  Here  are  two  more  letters 
from  Count  Nostitz,  and  another  from  Archduke  Fer- 
dinand, besides  a  few  other  papers.  I  want  a  digest  of 
all  this  carefully  drawn  up  and  written  out,  as  a  memor- 
andum in  French,  which  will  give  a  resume  of  all  the 
news  we  have  had  lately  as  to  the  movements  of  the 
Austrian  army,  and  which  I  can  show  to  his  Excellency." 

Prince  Andr6  bowed  assent.  He  had  understood 
not  only  what  his  chief  had  said,  but  also  what  he  had 
left  unsaid,  and  saluting  the  two  generals  he  slowly  left 
the  room. 

It  was  not  long  since  Prince  Andr6  had  quitted 
Russia,  but  he  was  very  much  changed.  The  affectation 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  1 95 

'^f  indifference  and  boredom  which  had  been  habitual  to 
hin  had  entirely  disappeared ;  he  seemed  now  to  have 
no  ti-ne  to  think  of  the  impression  he  might  be  produ- 
cing )n  others,  having  something  more  important  to 
think  about.  Quite  satisfied  with  himself  and  his  posi- 
tion he  was  b-ighter  and  more  genial  in  proportion. 
Koutouzow,  wiom  he  had  joined  in  Poland,  had  re- 
ceived him  wi'h  open  arms,  promising  not  to  forget  him, 
and  he  had  distinguished  him  above  his  other  aides-de- 
camp, taking  h.n  with  him  to  Vienna  and  entrusting 
him  with  important  missions.  He  had  indeed  written 
to  his  old  comrade  old  Prince  Bolkonsky,  in  the  follow- 
ing terms : 

"  Your  son  will,  I  i.ope  and  believe,  become  a  dis- 
tinguished officer,  from  ihe  steadiness  and  care  with 
which  he  carries  out  his  duty;  I  am  glad  to  have  him 
with  me." 

Among  the  officers  of  the  staff  and  the  officers  in 
command  Prince  Andre  bore  —  as  he  had  done  in  St. 
Petersburg  —  two  quite  different  reputations.  Some  — 
the  minority,  recognizing  his  exceptional  individuality 
as  capable  of  great  things,  lauded  him,  listened  to  him, 
and  imitated  him ;  with  them  consequently  he  was  on 
easy  and  pleasant  terms.  The  rest  —  the  majority,  did 
not  like  him,  regarded  him  as  haughty  and  thought  him 
cold  and  repellent :  but  to  them  he  had  succeeded  in 
behaving  so  as  to  command  their  fear  and  respect. 

On  leaving  his  chief's  room  Prince  Andre  went  to 
Kozlovsky,  the  aide-de-camp  on  duty,  who  was  sitting 
in  a  window  with  a  book  in  his  hand. 

»3  * 


196  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

"  What  does  the  prince  say  ?"  he  asked. 

"  He  wishes  you  to  draw  up  a  memorandum  to  ac- 
count for  our  inaction." 

"  Why  ?" 

Prince  Andre  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Any  news  of  Mack  ?" 
.    "None." 

"  If  the  news  of  his  defeat  were  tri  e  we  should 
have  heard  it  by  this  time." 

"  Probably."  And  Prince  Andr6  w^t  towards  the 
outer  door,  but  at  this  very  moment  it  was  flung  open 
to  admit  a  third  person  who  rushfd  into  the  room. 
This  was  an  Austrian  general,  a  tal'  man  with  a  black 
bandage  round  his  head  and  rearing  the  order  of 
Maria-Theresa.     Prince  Andr-  stopped. 

"  The  commander  in-clnef —  Prince  Koutouzow  ?" 
said  the  stranger  eagerly,  with  a  strong  German  accent, 
and  having  glanced  round  him  he  went  straight  tow- 
ards the  door  of  the  study. 

**  The  commander-in-chief  is  engaged,"  replied 
Kozlovsky  hurrying  forward  to  bar  the  way.  "  What 
name  shall  I  take  in  ?" 

The  Austrian  general,  astonished  at  not  being  recog- 
nized, looked  at  the  little  aide-de-camp  with  supreme 
contempt. 

"  The  commander-in-chief  is  engaged,"  repeated 
Kozlovsky  with  calm  indifference. 

The  stranger's  face  clouded  and  his  lips  trembled ; 
he  took  a  note-book  out  of  his  pocket  and  after  scrawl- 
ing a  few  lines  he  tore  out  the  leaf  and  gave  it  to  the 


WAR   AND   PEACE.  197 

young  man.  Then  he  hastily  went  to  the  window  and 
dropped  with  all  his  weight  into  an  arm-chair,  looking 
at  the  two  aides-de-camp  with  a  sullen  eye  intended  no 
doubt  to  reprove  their  curiosity.  Presently  he  raised  his 
head  and  drew  himself  up,  evidently  intending  to  speak; 
but  with  an  abrupt  gesture  he  began  instead  to  hum  a 
scrap  of  a  tune  which  died  away  in  an  inarticulate 
sound.  The  door  of  the  study  opened  and  Koutouzow 
came  out.  The  Austrian  officer,  bending  low  as  if  to 
escape  some  peril,  went  forward  to  meet  him,  striding  a 
few  paces  with  his  long,  thin  legs. 

"  You  see  the  unfortunate  Mack !"  he  said  in  a 
broken  voice. 

For  a  few  seconds  Koutouzow  remained  imperturba- 
ble ;  then  his  features  relaxed,  his  brow  cleared  ;  he 
bowed  respectfully,  stood  back  to  let  the  Austrian  pass 
into  the  inner  room,  followed  him  and  closed  the  door. 
The  report  of  the  defeat  of  the  Austrians  and  the  dis- 
persal of  the  army  under  the  walls  of  Ulm  was  thus 
fully  confirmed. 

Half  an  hour  later  aides-de-camp  riding  in  every 
direction  were  bearing  the  orders  which,  within  a  short 
time,  would  release  the  Russian  forces  from  their  inac- 
tion and  send  them  forward  to  meet  the  enemy. 

Prince  Andre  was  one  of  those  exceptional  staff- 
officers  whose  whole  interest  is  centered  on  the  general 
scheme  of  military  operations.  Mack's  arrival  here,  and 
the  details  of  his  defeat,  enabled  him  to  understand 
that  the  Russian  army  was  now  in  a  critical  position 
and  that  the  first  half  of  the  campaign  was  a  failure. 


198  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

His  fancy  pictured  the  part  about  to  be  played  by 
the  Russian  army,  and  his  own  share  in  it ;  and  he 
could  not  help  feeling  a  thrill  of  exultant  satisfaction 
as  he  reflected  that  Austria's  pride  was  humbled  and 
that  within  a  week  he  would  be  assisting  in  an  inevitable 
struggle  between  the  French  and  the  Russians,  the  first 
since  Souvorow's  day.  Still  he  feared  that  Napoleon's 
genius  would  prove  too  strong  for  all  the  valor  of  his 
adversaries,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  he  could  not  bear 
that  his  hero  should  meet  with  a  check. 

Prince  Andr6,  over-excited  by  the  working  of  his 
brain,  went  to  his  own  rooms  to  write  his  daily  letter  to 
his  father.  On  his  way  he  met  Nesvitsky,  with  whom 
he  shared  his  quarters,  and  with  him  Gerkow;  both 
were  in  fits  of  laughter. 

"  Why  are  you  so  dismal  ?*'  asked  Nesvitsky,  seeing 
his  pale  face  and  sparkling  eyes. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  gay  about,"  replied  Bol- 
konsky. 

As  they  spoke  they  saw  at  the  further  end  of  the 
corridor  a  member  of  the  Hofkriegsrath  with  the  Aus- 
trian General  Strauch,  who  was  attached  to  Koutouzow's 
staff  as  head  of  the  commissariat  in  charge  of  the  sup- 
plies for  the  Russian  forces.  These  two  oflficers  had 
arrived  only  the  day  before.  The  passage  was  a  wide 
one  and  there  was  no  need  for  the  three  young  men  to 
stand  aside,  but  Gerkow,  giving  Nesvitsky  a  push,  ex- 
claimed in  breathless  haste  :  "  They  are  coming  —  they 
are  coming  this  way;  make  way  pray." 

The  two  generals  seemed  anxious  to  avoid  any  dam- 


WAR    AND   PEACE.  I99 

onstration  of  respect ;  Gerkow,  however,  with  a  broad 
smile  of  silly  complacency  stepped  forward  : 

"  Your  Excellency,"  he  said  in  German,  and  ad- 
dressing the  Austrian,  "  I  have  the  honor  of  congratu- 
lating you  ..."  And  he  bowed,  scraping  first  one  foot 
and  then  the  other,  like  a  school-boy  learning  to  dance. 
The  war-councillor  looked  stern  but  he  was  struck  by 
the  simplicity  of  Gerkow's  broad,  stupid  smile,  and 
could  not  refuse  to  listen. 

"  I  have  the  honor  of  congratulating  you,"  Gerkow 
repeated.  "  General  Mack  has  arrived,  safe  and  sound 
all  but  a  slight  cut  here,"  and  he  raised  his  hand  to  his 
head  with  a  triumphant  expression.  The  general 
frowned  and  turned  away  : 

"  Good  Heavens,  what  an  idiot !"  he  exclaimed  and 
went  on. 

Nesvitsky,  quite  enchanted  threw  his  arms  round 
Prince  Andre,  but  he,  paler  than  ever,  pushed  him 
roughly  aside  and  turned  to  Gerkow.  The  painful  ex- 
citement produced  by  seeing  Mack,  by  hearing  his 
news,  and  by  his  own  reflections  on  the  situation  of  the 
Russian  army,  at  last  found  an  outlet  over  this  ill-timed 
jest. 

"  If  you,  Sir,"  he  said  in  cutting  tones,  and  his  chin 
trembled,  "  choose  to  set  up  for  a  buffoon  I,  of  course, 
cannot  prevent  it;  but  I  warn  you  that  if  you  ever 
again  venture  to  play  the  fool  so  grossly  in  my  presence 
I  will  give  you  a  lesson  in  manners." 

Nesvitsky  and  Gerkow,  astounded  at  this  outbreak, 
looked  at  each  other  in  silence. 


200  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

"What  do  you  mean?  I  congratulated  him,  that 
was  all,"  said  Gerkow. 

"I  am  not  in  jest  —  hold  your  tongue,"  cried  Bol- 
konsky,  and  taking  Nesvitsky's  arm  he  walked  off; 
Gerkow  found  nothing  to  answer. 

"  Come,  come ;  what  ails  you  ?"  said  Nesvitsky, 
wishing  to  soothe  him. 

"  What  ails  me  ?  Don't  you  understand  ?  Are  we 
officers  in  the  service  of  our  Czar  and  country,  proud  of 
success  and  miserable  at  defeat,  or  are  we  hired  ser- 
vants who  take  no  interest  in  our  master's  concerns  ? 
Forty  thousand  men  killed,  our  Ally's  army  cut  to 
pieces .  .  .  and  you  can  see  anytliing  to  jest  at !"  And 
he  spoke  the  last  words  excitedly,  and  in  French,  as  if 
that  would  give  them  added  weight.  "  It  is  all  very 
well  for  an  empty-headed  fellow  like  that  Gerkow,  of 
whom  you  have  made  a  friend,  but  not  for  you,  not 
for  you.     It  is  sport  for  a  street-boy  perhaps  .  .  .  ." 

Noticing  that  Gerkow  could  hear  what  he  was  say- 
ing he  paused  to  see  if  he  would  answer,  but  the  lieu- 
tenant turned  on  his  heel  and  left  the  corridor. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  Pavlograd  regiment  of  hussars  were  encamped 
at  about  two  miles  from  Braunau.  The  squadron  in 
which  Nicolas  Rostow  was  '■'•jimker''  was  quartered  in 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  201 


the  village  of  Saltzeneck,  and  the  best  house  in  the 
place  had  been  given  up  to  the  officer  in  command : 
Captain  Denissow,  known  in  the  division  as  Vaska 
Denissow.  Since  joining  his  regiment  Rostow  had  al- 
ways shared  his  captain's  quarters.  On  this  particular 
day,  the  8th  of  October,  when  at  headquarters  every- 
thing was  in  utter  confusion  in  consequence  of  Mack's 
defeat,  the  squadron  was  leading  its  regular  camp  life  just 
as  usual.  Denissow,  who  had  been  gambling  and  los- 
ing all  night,  had  not  come  in  when  Rostow  in  his  sub- 
altern's uniform  came  riding  home  from  his  early  morn- 
ing's duty  of  seeking  and  distributing  forage.  He 
pulled  up  at  the  front  steps,  and  throwing  up  his  right 
leg  with  boyish  agility,  he  stood  for  a  moment  in  the 
stirrup  as  though  he  regretted  having  to  dismount; 
then  he  sprang  to  the  ground  and  called  the  orderly 
who  hurried  forward  to  hold  his  horse : 

"  Here  Bonedareneko,  walk  him  about  for  a  little 
while;"  he  said,  with  the  good-natured  familiarity 
which  comes  naturally  to  kindly  souls  when  they  are 
happy. 

"  All  right,  your  Excellency,"  said  the  man,  a  native 
of  Little  Russia. 

"  Mind,  walk  him  about  well." 

Another  soldier  had  run  up  at  the  same  time,  but 
Bonedareneko  had  seized  the  horse's  bridle;  it  was 
clear  that  the  junker  paid  well  and  was  worth  serving. 
Rostow,  after  patting  his  steed,  stopped  on  the  steps  to 
admire  him. 

"  He  will  make  a  fine  horse  1"  he  said  to  himself; 


202  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

then,  picking  up  his  sabre,  he  went  in,  jingling  his  spurs 
as  he  walked. 

The  German  to  whom  the  house  belonged  was  vis- 
ible, in  a  flannel  shirt  and  cotton  nightcap,  at  the  door 
of  his  stable  where  he  was  turning  over  the  manure- 
heap  with  a  pitchfork.  His  face  lighted  up  with  a  jolly- 
smile  as  he  saw  Rostow. 

"  Good-day,  good-day,"  he  said,  returning  his  bow 
with  evident  pleasure. 

"  At  work  already !"  said  Rostow  smiling,  too. 
"  Hurrah  for  Austria !  Hurrah  for  the  Russians !  Hur- 
rah for  the  Emperor  Alexander!"  he  added.  These 
were  the  German's  favorite  watchwords.  The  man 
came  towards  him,  waved  his  cotton  nightcap  in  the 
air  with  a  laugh,  and  shouted :  "  Hurrah  for  all  the 
world !" 

Rostow  repeated  his  cry;  and  yet  they  had  no 
reason  for  all  this  vehement  rejoicing,  neither  the  Aus- 
trian who  was  cleaning  his  stable,  nor  Rostow  who  had 
had  far  to  ride  with  his  fatigue-party.  When  they  had 
thus  given  free  vent  to  their  patriotic  and  fraternal  feel- 
ings the  good  man  returned  to  his  work,  and  Rostow 
went  in-doors. 

"  Where  is  your  master  ?"  he  asked  Lavrouchka, 
Denissow's  servant,  a  cunning  rascal  whose  character 
was  well  known  in  the  regiment. 

"  He  has  not  been  in  since  last  evening ;  he  has 
been  losing  most  likely,"  rephed  Lavrouchka.  "  I 
know  him  well ;  when  he  has  won  he  comes  in  early  to 
boast  of  it ;  when  he  does  not  come  in  all  night  it  is 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  205 

because  he  is  out  of  luck,  and  then  he  is  in  a  devil  of  a 
temper.     Are  you  ready  for  coffee  ?" 

"  Yes  —  and  make  haste." 

In  ten  minutes  the  man  brought  the  coffee. 

"  He  is  coming,"  he  said,  "  look  out  for  the  shell." 

Denissow,  in  fact,  now  made  his  appearance.  He 
was  a  little  man  with  a  flushed  face,  bright  black  eyes, 
and  black  hair  and  moustache,  in  great  disorder.  His 
pelisse  was  unfastened,  his  wide  trousers  hardly  held  up, 
and  his  shako  was  stuck  on  the  back  of  his  head.  He 
.came  in  looking  gloomy  and  tired,  hanging  his  head. 

"  Lavrouchka,"  he  called  out  angrily  —  he  spoke 
with  a  strong  burr.  —  "  Here,  idiot,  take  this  off." 

"Well,  I  am  taking  it  off!" 

"  What,  you  are  up !"  he  added  as  he  entered  the 
room. 

"  And  high  time,  too.  I  have  been  to  find  forage^ 
and  I  have  seen  Fraulein  Mathilde." 

"  Haha  !  And  1,  my  dear  boy,  have  let  myself  in 
like  a  double-distilled  dunce.  —  The  devil's  luck !  A 
run  against  me  from  the  moment  when  you  left  .  .  . 
'  Here,  bring  me  some  tea,"  he  called  crossly.  Then  he 
smiled  —  a  sort  of  snarl  that  showed  his  small  square 
teeth,  and  pushed  his  fingers  through  his  hair  that  stood 
all  on  end.  "  The  Devil  himself  drove  me  to  the  Rat's 
hole"  —  the  Rat  was  a  nickname  given  to  one  of  the 
ofiicers.  —  "Just  fancy,  I  had  not  a  card — not  one.  .  .  .** 

And  Denissow,  after  knocking  the  ashes  out  of  his 
pipe,  flung  it  on  the  floor  where  it  broke  into  a  hundred 
pieces.     He  paused  for  half  a  second,  looking  at  Ros- 


204 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


tow  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  bright  black  eyes.  "  If 
there  were  any  women  here  1  —  But  there  is  nothing  to 
do  but  to  drink !  .  .  .  When  shall  we  get  to  fighting  ?  . . . 
Hallo!  Who  is  there?"  he  called  out,  hearing  a  noise 
of  heavy  boots  and  spurs  outside  the  door,  with  a  re- 
spectful litde  cough. 

"  The  quarter-master,"  Lavrouchka  announced. 

"  It  is  a  bad  job!"  said  Denissow,  and  he  flung  his 
purse,  containing  a  few  gold  pieces,  across  to  Rostow. 
'*  Just  be  so  good  as  to  count  what  is  left,  would  you; 
and  then  put  my  purse  under  my  pillow."  And  he  went 
out. 

Rostow  amused  himself  with  piling  the  gold  pieces 
in  little  heaps  according  to  their  value,  while  Denissow's 
voice  was  audible  in  the  next  room. 

"  Ah  !  Telianine,  good-morning ;  I  ruined  myself 
last  night." 

"  Where  ?" 

"  At  Bykow's." 

"  At  the  Rat's  —  I  know,"  said  a  second  voice, 
sweet  and  piping ;  and  Lieutenant  Tehanine,  another 
officer  of  the  same  company,  came  into  the  room  where 
Rostow  was  sitting.  Rostow  hastily  thrust  the  purse 
under  Denissow's  pillow,  and  shook  the  damp  hand 
that  was  offered  him.  Telianine  had  been  dismissed 
from  the  guards  some  little  time  before  the  campaign  ; 
his  conduct  was  now  blameless  but  he  was  not  liked. 
Rostow  especially  could  neither  conquer  nor  conceal 
his  antipathy. 

"  Well,  my  young  horseman,  are  you  satisfied  with 


WAR   AND    PEACE. 


^207 


my  Little  Crow  ?"  (the  name  of  the  horse  he  had  sold 
to  Rostow).  Telianine  never  looked  the  man  he  ad- 
dressed straight  in  the  face ;  his  eyes  were  always  wan- 
dering from  one  object  to  another;  "  I  saw  you  riding 
just  now." 

"  He  is  nothing  remarkable  —  a  fairly  good  horse," 
said  Rostow,  who  was  well  aware  that  he  had  paid  700 
roubles  for  a  beast  that  was  worth  about  half.  "  He  is 
a  little  lame  of  the  near  foreleg." 

"  The  hoof  cracked  perhaps ;  that  is  nothing;  I  can 
show  you  how  to  rivet  it." 

"  Yes,  show  me." 

"Oh!  it  is  quite  simple  and  no  secret.  You  will 
thank  me  for  that  horse  I  am  sure." 

"  I  will  have  him  brought  round,"  said  Rostow  to 
get  rid  of  Telianine,  and  he  went  away. 

In  the  outer  room  Denissow,  seated  on  the  ground 
with  his  legs  crossed  and  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  was  lis- 
tening to  the  quarter-master's  report.  As  Rostow  came 
through  he  made  a  face,  and  pointing  with  his  thumb 
over  his  shoulder  with  an  expression  of  disgust:  "  I  do 
not  like  that  fellow,"  he  said,  regardless  of  the  presence 
of  his  inferior.  Rostow  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  much 
as  to  say  :  "  Nor  I  either,  but  what  is  to  be  done ! 

Having  given  his  orders  he  returned  to  Telianine 
who  stood  idly  rubbing  his  little  white  hands  : 

"  To  think  that  some  faces  should  be  so  strangely 
antipathetic!"  thought  Rostow. 

"  Well,  have  you  sent  for  the  horse  ?"  asked  Telia- 
nine looking  about  him  with  an  indifferent  stare. 


20 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


'•  He  will  be  here  in  a  minute." 

"  Very  well — I  came  only  to  ask  Denissow  whether 
he  had  received  to-day's  orders  —  have  you,  Denis- 
sow  ?" 

"  Not  yet.  —  Where  are  you  going  ?" 

"  I  am  going  to  show  our  young  friend  how  to  shoe 
a  horse." 

They  went  off  together  and  TeHanine,  having  done 
the  job,  presently  returned  to  his  own  quarters. 

Denissow,  sitting  at  a  table  with  a  bottle  of  brandy 
and  a  large  sausage  before  him,  was  writing,  his  pen 
creaking  and  spluttering  on  the  paper,  when  Rostovv 
came  in;  he  looked  up  with  a  gloomy  gaze. 

"  I  am  writing  to  her.  .  .  ."  and  resting  his  elbow 
on  the  table  without  laying  down  his  pen  he  poured 
forth  in  speech  the  gist  of  his  letter  as  if  he  were  only 
too  glad  of  an  opportunity  of  saying  aloud  all  he 
wanted  to  write : 

"  You  see,  my  dear  fellow,  a  man  does  not  live,  he 
is  only  torpid,  when  he  is  not  in  love.  We  are  creatures 
of  dust,  but  when  we  love  we  are  gods,  we  are  pure 
again  as  on  the  first  day  of  creation  !  .  .  .  Who  is  there  ? 
Send  him  to  the  devil,  I  have  no  time.  .  .  ." 

But  Lavrouchka  came  up  to  him  quite  coolly. 

"  It  is  nobody,"  he  said.  "  Only  the  quarter-mas- 
ter, who  is  come  for  the  money,  as  you  told  him." 

Denissow  controlled  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  It  is  a  bad  job,"  he  growled.  "  I  say,  Rostow,  how 
much  is  there  in  my  purse  ?" 

"  Seven  new  pieces  and  three  old  ones." 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  207 

"  A  bad  job  !  What  are  you  about,  standing  there 
like  a  post  ?     Go  and  fetch  the  quarter-master." 

"  Denissow,  let  me  beg  you  to  take  some  of  my 
money,"  cried  Rostow  coloring.  "  You  know  I  have 
plenty." 

"I  do  not  like  borrowing  of  my  friends  —  I  cannot 
bear  it." 

"If  you  do  not  treat  me  as  a  comrade  I  shall  be 
seriously  hurt;  I  have  plenty  I  assure  you,"  repeated 
Rostow. 

"  No,  I  tell  you " 

Denissow  went  to  his  bed  to  find  the  purse. 

"Where  have  you  hidden  it?" 

"Under  the  bottom  pillow." 

"It  is  not  here."  And  Denissow  tossed  both  pil- 
lows on  to  the  floor. 

"It  is  very  odd!" 

"You  must  have  thrown  it  out,  stop  a  minute," 
said  Rostow  shaking  the  pillows  and  throwing  back  the 
bed  clothes  ..."  Not  here!  Can  I  have  forgotten  it? 
No.  I  am  sure  I  did  not,  for  I  remember  thinking 
that  you  kept  it  under  your  pillow  as  if  it  were  a  treas- 
ure. I  certainly  put  it  there;  where  can  it  be?"  he 
added  turning  to  Lavrouchka. 

"  It  must  be  where  you  put  it,  for  I  have  not  been 
in." 

"  I  tell  you  it  is  not  where  I  put  it." 

"It  is  the  old  story.  You  always  forget  where  you 
have  put  a  thing.     Look  in  your  pockets." 


208  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

"No,  no,  I  tell  you;  I  said  that  to  myself  about  the 
treasure.     I  perfectly  remember  putting  it  there." 

Lavrouchka  entirely  unmade  the  bed,  looked  every- 
where, hunted  every  corner,  and  at  last  stood  still  in 
the  middle  of  the  room  with  his  hands  spread  out,  at 
his  wits'  end.  Denissovv,  who  had  been  watching  him 
in  silence,  now  turned  to  Rostow. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "have  done  with  this  fooling." 

Rostow,  feeling  his  friend's  stern  gaze,  looked  up  at 
him,  but  immediately  looked  down.  His  face  crimsoned 
and  he  breathed  hard. 

"  No  one  has  been  in  here  but  the  lieutenant  and 
you  two,"  said  Lavrouchka,  "  so  it  must  be  here." 

"Very  well,  then,  helpless  idiot,  stir,  search,  hunt!" 
cried  Denissow  red  with  anger  and  threatening  the 
man  with  his  fist.  "  It  has  to  be  found  or  I  will  give  you 
a  horsewhipping — I  will  horsewhip  you  all." 

Rostow  buttoned  up  his  jacket,  tightened  his  belt 
and  took  up  his  cap. 

"Find  it,  I  tell  you,"  Denissow  went  on,  shaking 
the  man  and  pushing  him  hard  against  the  wall. 

"  Let  him  go,  Denissow;  I  know  who  has  taken  it." 
And  Rostow,  still  looking  at  the  floor  made  his  way 
towards  the  door. 

Denissow,  suddenly  understanding  what  he  meant, 
seized  his  hand. 

"What  nonsense!"  he  exclaimed;  the  veins  in  his 
throat  and  forehead  stood  out  like  cords.  "  You  are 
out  of  your  mind  I  believe.  I  will  flay  this  rascal,  and 
the  purse  will  be  found." 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  209 

"  I  know  who  has  taken  it,"  Rostow  repeated  in  a 
choked  voice. 

"  And  I  forbid  you  I  tell  you  .  .  .  !"  cried  Denissow. 

Rostow  wrenched  himself  free  from  his  grasp. 

"  Do  not  you  understand  ?"  he  said,  looking  straight 
into  his  eyes.  "  Do  not  you  understand  what  you  are 
saying?  No  one  has  been  here  but  myself,  so  if  it  is 
not  he  —  the  other  —  it  must  be  . .  ."  and  he  rushed  out 
of  the  room  without  finishing  his  sentence. 

"  Devil  take  you  and  all  the  rest !...." 

These  were  the  last  words  Rostow  heard;  a  few 
minutes  later  he  reached  Tehanine's  lodgings. 

"  My  master  is  out,"  said  the  servant,  "  he  is  gone 
to  headquarters. — Has  anything  happened?"  he  added, 
seeing  the  young  man's  disturbed  look. 

"  No,  nothing." 

"  You  have  only  just  missed  him." 

Rostow  without  going  indoors,  mounted  his  horse 
and  rode  to  headquarters  which  was  at  about  three 
versts  from  Saltzeneck :  there  was  a  little  eating-house 
there  where  the  officers  were  wont  to  meet.  At  the 
door  he  saw  Telianine's  horse  tied  up;  the  lieutenant 
was  at  table  in  an  inner  room,  with  a  plate  of  sausages 
and  a  bottle  of  wine  before  him. 

"You,  too,  youngster  !"  he  said  smiling  and  raising 
his  brows. 

"Yes—"  said  Rostow  with  an  effort  and  he  sat 
down  at  a  neighboring  table  with  two  Germans  and  a 
Russian  officer. 

No  one  was  talking ;  the  only  sound  was  the  clink 

Vol.1.  14 


2IO  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

of  knives.  When  he  had  finished  his  breakfast  Teha- 
nine  drew  a  long  purse  out  of  his  pocket,  sHpped  up  the 
rings  between  liis  wliite  fingers  which  turned  up  at  the 
tips,  took  out  a  gold  coin,  and  offered  it  to  the  waiter. 

"  Make  haste,"  he  said. 

"  Allow  me  to  look  at  that  purse,"  said  Rostow  in  a 
low  voice,  and  T61ianine,  whose  eyes  were  wandering 
as  usual,  handed  it  to  him. 

"  It  is  pretty  is  it  not  ?"  he  said  turning  paler. 
"  Look  at  it." 

Rostow  glanced  from  the  purse  to  the  lieutenant. 

"  All  that  money  will  be  left  at  Vienna  if  we  ever 
get  there,  for  here,  in  these  wretched  litde  holes,  there 
is  nothing  to  spend  one's  money  on,"  said  Telianine 
with  forced  gaiety.  "  Give  it  back  to  me,  I  am  going." 
Rostow  said  nothing.  "Are  not  you  going  to  have 
some  breakfast  ?  The  food  here  is  pretty  good  ;  but, 
come,  give  it  back. .  ."  and  he  put  out  his  hand  and 
took  hold  of  the  purse. 

Rostow  let  go  and  the  lieutenant  slipped  it  quietly 
into  the  pocket  of  his  trousers;  he  raised  his  brows 
with  a  devil-may-care  expression,  and  his  lips  parted  as 
though  he  would  say:  "Yes,  it  is  my  purse;  it  goes 
into  my  pocket  as  a  matter  of  course  and  no  one  can 
have  anything  to  say  to  that .... 

"Well!"  he  said  aloud  and  their  eyes  met  with  a 
flash. 

"  Come  this  way,"  said  Rostow,  drawing  Telianine 
into  the  Avindow.  "  This  money  is  Denissow's.  You 
took  it,"  he  whispered  in  his  ear. 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  211 

"  What !  How  dare  you  ?"  But  these  broken 
words  were  evidently  nothing  more  than  a  desperate 
appeal  and  prayer  for  pardon.  They  dissipated  the  last 
doubts  that  weighed  with  fearful  oppression  on  Ros- 
tow's  soul.  He  felt  joy  at  the  immense  relief,  but  at 
the  same  time  deep  pity  for  the  hapless  wretch. 

"There  are  other  men  here,  God  knows  what  they 
may  fancy,"  murmured  Telianine,  taking  up  his  cap 
and  going  towards  an  empty  room  beyond. 

"  We  must  come  to  some  explanation ;  I  knew  it, 
and  can  prove  it,"  answered  Rostow,  determined  now 
to  carry  the  matter  through.  The  guilty  man's  pale 
and  terrified  face  was  convulsed;  his  eyes  wandered 
right  and  left  but  still  gazed  at  the  floor ;  he  dared  not 
raise  them.  Some  hoarse  and  inarticulate  noises  broke 
from  him :  "  I  entreat  you,  Count  ...  do  not  ruin  me; 
here  is  the  money,  take  it. —  My  father  is  old,  my 
mother  .  .  .  ." 

He  threw  the  purse  on  to  the  table.  Rostow  took 
possession  of  it  and  went  to  the  door  without  looking 
back  at  Tehanine;  but  on  the  threshold  he  turned 
round  and  returned. 

"  Good  God  !"  he  said  in  a  tone  of  anguish,  and 
there  were  tears  in  his  eyes.  "  How  could  you  do 
it?" 

"  Count.  .  .  ."     And  Telianine  came  towards  him. 

"Do  not  touch  me,"  exclaimed  Rostow  drawing 
back.  "Well,  if  you  are  in  want  of  it,  take  it — here." 
He  flung  down  the  purse  and  ran  out  of  the  room. 

That  same  evening  an  animated  conversation  took 


212  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

place  in  Denissow's  room  among  the  officers  of  the 
squadron. 

"  You  ought  to  make  an  apology  to  the  colonel  I 
tell  you,"  said  Captain  Kirstein,  the  second  in  com- 
mand ;  he  had  iron-grey  hair,  an  enormous  moustache, 
strongly-marked  features  and  deeply  wrinkled ;  he  had 
twice  been  degraded  to  the  ranks  for  affairs  of  honor, 
but  had  always  succeeded  in  recovering  his  commission. 

"  I  will  allow  no  one  to  say  that  I  lie !"  cried  Ros- 
tow,  his  face  flushed  while  he  trembled  with  excitement. 
"  He  said  I  had  lied,  and  I  told  him  it  was  he 
that  had  lied,  and  there  the  matter  rests.  They 
may  put  me  on  extra  duty  every  day  or  place  me  under 
arrest;  but  as  to  an  apology  that  is  another  matter,  for 
if  the  colonel  thinks  it  beneath  him  to  give  me  satisfac- 
tion. .  .  ." 

*'  Come,  come,  listen  to  me,"  said  Kirstein,  inter- 
rupting him  in  his  bass  tones  as  he  coolly  stroked  his 
long  moustache.  "  You  told  him  before  several  officers 
that  one  of  their  fellow-officers  had  committed  a  theft?" 

"  It  was  not  my  fault  that  there  happened  to  be 
witnesses.  I  was  wrong  so  far,  perhaps,  for  I  am  not 
diplomatic ;  it  was  for  that  very  reason  that  I  joined  the 
hussars,  believing  that  such  superfine  discretion  would 
not  be  needed, —  and  then  he  gives  me  the  lie  direct ! 
Well  then,  let  him  answer  for  it." 

"  That  is  all  very  fine ;  no  one  doubts  your  courage, 
but  that  is  not  the  question.  Just  ask  Denissow  if  a 
subaltern  like  you  can  demand  satisfaction  of  the 
colonel  of  your  regiment." 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  213 

Denissow  sat,  sullenly  gnawing  his  moustache  and 
taking  no  part  in  the  discussion,  but  he  shook  his  head 
in  negation  to  Kirstein's  question. 

"  You  spoke  to  the  colonel  of  this  piece  of  rascality 
before  other  officers  ?  Then  Bogdanitch  was  quite  right 
in  calling  you  to  order." 

"  He  did  not  call  me  to  order.  He  said  I  was  not 
speaking  the  truth." 

"  Just  so,  and  you  talked  all  sorts  of  nonsense  in 
reply,  so  you  owe  him  an  apology." 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  I  did  not  expect  this  from  you,"  said  the  captain 
gravely,  "  for  you  are  in  the  wrong,  not  merely  as  re- 
gards him,  but  as  regards  all  the  regiment.  If  you  had 
only  taken  time  to  reflect,  if  you  had  asked  advice  be- 
fore acting  —  but  no,  you  broke  out  at  once  and  before 
other  officers.  What  could  the  colonel  do  but  put  the 
man  you  accused  on  his  trial ;  it  was  bringing  disgrace 
on  his  regiment  and  putting  it  to  shame  for  a  miserable 
rascal.  This  in  your  eyes  would  have  been  justice,  but 
we  do  not  see  it  in  that  light  and  Bogdanitch  was  quite 
right  to  punish  you.  You  are  aggrieved,  but  it  is  your 
own  fault ;  you  sought  the  quarrel ;  and  now  that  every 
one  wants  to  hush  the  matter  up  you  insist  on  noising 
it  abroad  —  and  your  self-conceit  will  not  allow  you  to 
make  an  apology  to  such  an  old  and  respected  officer 
as  our  colonel !  Much  you  care  I  suppose  ?  It  is 
nothing  to  you  that  the  regiment  should  be  disgraced  " 
—  and  Kirstein's  voice  shook  a  httle.  "  You,  who  will 
not  remain  in  it  more  than  a  year  perhaps,  and  who 


214  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

may  be  made  aide-de-camp  to-morrow  ?  But  it  is  a 
great  deal  to  us  if  it  is  said  that  there  are  thieves  in  the 
Pavlograd  hussars  !  —  What  do  you  say,  Denissow  ?" 

Denissow,  motionless  and  silent,  looked  up  now  and 
then  at  Rostow. 

"  We  old  soldiers,"  Kirstein  went  on,  "  who  have 
grown  up  with  the  regiment  and  hope  to  die  in  it,  we 
have  its  honor  at  heart,  and  Bogdanitch  knows  it.  It  is 
wrong,  quite  wrong ;  you  may  be  angry  if  you  choose, 
I  have  never  minced  the  truth  to  any  one." 

"  He  is  right,  damn  it  all !"  cried  Denissow.  '*  Well 
Rostow,  what  next  ?" 

Rostow,  turning  red  and  white,  looked  from  one  to 
the  other. 

"  No  indeed,  gentlemen,  do  not  suppose  —  do  not 
think  me  capable  ...  I  have  the  honor  of  the  regiment 
at  heart  too,  and  I  will  prove  it,  and  the  honor  of 
our  flag  .  .  .  Yes,  I  was  wrong,  altogether  wrong;  what 
more  can  I  say  ?"  and  the  tears  started  to  his  eyes. 

"Well  done.  Count,"  said  Kirstein,  patting  him  on 
the  shoulder  with  his  big  hand. 

"  I  told  you  so,"  said  Denissow,  "  his  heart  is  in  the 
right  place." 

"  Yes,  that  is  right ;  well  done,  Count,"  repeated  the 
old  soldier,  giving  the  boy  his  title  in  acknowledge- 
ment of  his  candor.  "  Come,  go  and  offer  your  apolo- 
gies." 

"  Gentlemen,  I  will  do  anything  you  like,  and  never 
say  another  word  about  the  matter;  but  as  to  apolo- 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  215 

gizing,  it  is  impossible  I  do  assure  you.  I  should  look 
like  a  school-boy  begging  to  be  let  off." 

Denissow  burst  out  laughing :  "  So  much  the  worse 
for  you !  Bogdanitch  is  not  forgiving  and  you  will  pay 
dear  for  your  obstinacy." 

"  I  declare  it  is  not  obstinacy,  I  cannot  explain  my 
feeling  .  .  .  but  I  simply  cannot  do  it." 

"  Very  well,  please  yourself.  —  And  where  is  the 
miserable  wretch  ?  Where  has  he  hidden  himself  ?" 
asked  Kirstein  of  Denissow. 

"  He  is  pretending  to  be  ill ;  he  is  to  be  reported  ill 
in  to-morrow's  orders." 

"  Well,  it  is  an  illness :  there  is  no  other  way  of  ac- 
counting for  it." 

"  Illness  or  not,  he  had  better  keep  out  of  my  way, 
I  should  kill  him,"  said  Denissow  furiously. 

At  this  instant  Gerkow  came  in. 

"You  !"  exclaimed  the  three  men. 

"  We  are  off,  gentlemen.  Mack  and  his  army  have 
surrendered." 

"  What  next !" 

"  I  saw  him  —  saw  him  with  my  own  eyes." 

"  What,  you  saw  Mack  alive,  in  the  flesh  ?" 

"  And  we  are  off?  Let  us  have  a  bottle  in  honor  of 
the  news  !  But  Avhat  brought  you  here  ?" 

"  I  am  in  disgrace  again,  and  all  by  reason  of  that 
wretched  Mack.  The  Austrian  general  complained  be- 
cause I  congratulated  him  on  the  arrival  of  his  superior 
officer.  But  what  is  the  matter  with  you,  Rostow  ?  You 
look  as  if  you  had  just  had  a  hot  bath." 


2i6  WAR  AND    PEACE. 

"  Oh !  my  dear  fellow,  everything  has  been  in  such 
a  mess  here  these  last  two  days  !" 

The  regimental  aide-de-camp  now  came  in  and  con- 
firmed Gerkow's  news.  The  regiment  was  to  march 
next  morning. 

"So  we  are  off,  gentlemen!  Thank  God!  no  more 
idleness." 


CHAPTER  XV. 

KouTOUZOW  was  falling  back  on  Vienna  after  de- 
stroying the  bridges  over  the  Inn  at  Braunau  and  over 
the  Traun  at  Lintz.  In  the  course  of  the  23d  of  Oc- 
tober the  troops  crossed  the  river  Enns.  The  baggage- 
wagons,  artillery,  and  columns  of  infantry  went  through 
the  little  town  of  Enns  forming  in  files  on  each  side  of 
the  bridge.  It  was  a  mild,  showery  autumn  day.  The 
wide  landscape  which  spread  before  the  eye  from  the 
heights  where  the  Russian  batteries  had  been  posted  to 
defend  the  bridge,  was  veiled  now  and  again  by  a  cur- 
tain of  fine  rain  that  filled  the  air  with  slanting  lines,  and 
then  at  intervals  showed  a  more  remote  horizon  when  a 
gleam  of  sunshine  lighted  up  the  distance  and  made 
every  object  glitter  as  if  it  had  been  varnished.  The 
little  town,  with  its  white,  red-tiled  houses,  its  cathedral, 
and  its  bridge  —  where,  on  both  sides,  the  Russian 
army  was  pouring  past  in  dense  masses  —  was  situated 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  217 

at  tlie  foot  of  the  hill.  In  a  reach  formed  by  the  junc- 
tion of  the  Danube  and  the  Enns  \^y  boats  and,  on  an 
island,  a  country-house  and  park  surrounded  by  the 
waters  of  the  two  rivers ;  on  the  rocky  left  shore  of  the 
Danube  rose  a  mysterious  distance  of  grassy  mountains, 
with  the  ravines  clothed  with  wild  and  impenetrable 
pine  forests  beyond  which  the  turrets  of  a  convent  were 
visible;  and  farther  off  still,  on  a  height,  the  enemy's 
outposts  could  be  discerned. 

In  front  of  the  Russian  battery  the  general  in  com- 
mand of  the  rear  division,  attended  by  a  staff  officer, 
was  examining  the  position  through  a  field-glass;  a  few 
paces  off  Nesvitsky,  who  had  been  sent  to  the  rear  by 
the  commander-in-chief,  sat  perched  on  a  gun-carriage 
and  doing  the  honors  of  some  little  pies  which  he  was 
offering  to  his  fellow-officers  with  genuine  Riga  Kiim- 
mel  to  wash  them  down.*  The  Cossack  who  served 
him  handed  the  flask  and  the  canteen,  while  the  officers 
crowded  round,  some  kneeling  and  some  squatting  on 
the  wet  grass. 

"  Not  a  bad  notion  of  the  Austrian  Prince's,  to 
build  himself  a  house  here !  What  a  delightful  situa- 
tion!    Well,  gentlemen,  have  you  lost  your  appetites?" 

"Thank  you  very  much,  Prince,"  said  one  of  them, 
who  greatly  appreciated  the  pleasure  of  chatting  with 
such  a  big- wig  of  the  staff  as  Prince  Nesvitsky.  "  Yes, 
the  place  is  nice.  We  walked  round  the  park  and  saw 
two  deer,  and  what  a  fine  house!" 

*  Kummel  is  a  liqueur  flavored  with  carraway,  for  which  Riga  is 
famous. 


2l8  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

"  Do  you  see,  Prince,"  said  another,  who  being 
ashamed  to  eat  another  pie  diverted  his  mind  by  study- 
ing the  landscape,"  look  —  our  infantry  have  got  in  al- 
ready. Down  there,  behind  the  village,  in  that  little 
meadow  three  men  are  dragging  something  along. 
They  will  soon  clear  the  house  out,"  he  added  with  an 
approving  smile. 

"  Yes,  that  they  will,"  said  Nesvitsky  putting  a  pie 
into  his  large  handsome  mouth  with  its  dewy  lips. 
"  For  my  part  I  want  to  get  in  there,"  he  went  on, 
pointing  to  the  turrets  of  the  convent  on  the  hill  and 
ha'f  closing  his  sparkling  eyes.  "  That  would  be  some- 
thing like,  gentlemen ;  come  confess !  To  have  a 
chance  of  frightening  those  little  nuns  I  would  have 
given,  faith !  five  years  of  my  life.  Italians  they  say 
and  some  of  them  very  pretty." 

"  And  bored  to  death  into  the  bargain,"  an  officer, 
more  bold  than  the  rest,  ventured  to  throw  in. 

Meanwhile  the  aide-de-camp  was  pointing  out  some- 
thing to  the  general  who  examined  it  carefully  with  his 
field-glass. 

"Just  so,  just  so!"  said  the  general  with  much  an- 
noyance, as  he  laid  down  the  glass  with  a  shrug. 
"  They  are  going  to  fire  on  our  men. —  How  they 
dawdle !" 

Even  with  the  naked  eye  the  enemy's  battery  could 
be  seen ;  a  puff  of  Hght  white  smoke  rose  up,  followed 
by  a  dull  report  and  the  Russian  troops  hurried  forward 
to  cross  the  river.  Nesvitsky  rose,  fanning  himself,  and 
went  up  to  the  officer  with  a  smile. 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  219 

"  Will  not  your  Excellency  take  something  to  eat  ?" 

"  It  will  not  do,"  said  the  general  not  answering  his 
invitation,  "  our  men  are  behindhand." 

"  Shall  I  run  down  to  them  ?" 

"  Yes  —  do  go  —  I  wish  you  would ;"  and  the  gen- 
eral repeated  the  orders  he  had  previously  given  :  "  Say 
that  the  hussars  are  to  cross  last  and  burn  the  bridge 
according  to  orders,  and  make  sure  that  all  the  com- 
bustibles are  properly  placed." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Nesvitsky.  *'  He  beckoned  to 
the  Cossack  to  bring  up  his  horse  and  pack  up  his  can- 
teen, then  he  lightly  lifted  his  large  person  into  the 
saddle.  "  My  word !  but  I  will  pay  the  little  nuns  a 
visit  as  I  pass,"  he  said  to  the  other  officers,  as  he 
spurred  his  horse  along  the  winding  path  that  led  down 
the  slope. 

"  Now  then,  Captain,"  said  the  general  turning'  to 
the  artillery  officer :  "  Fire.  Luck  will  guide  the  shell, 
you  may  have  a  little  fun." 

"  Forward  to  serve  the  guns !"  shouted  the  officer, 
and  in  a  moment  the  gunners  contentedly  quitted  their 
bivouac  fires  to  load  the  pieces. 

"  Number  one  !"  and  number  one  rushed  madly  into 
space.  There  was  a  deafening  metallic  roar;  the  shell 
sang  as  it  flew  over  the  heads  of  the  Russians  and  fell 
far  in  front  of  the  foe;  a  hght  cloud  of  smoke  showed 
where  it  had  fallen  and  burst.  Officers  and  soldiers  had 
all  been  roused  by  the  noise  and  watched  with  intense 
interest  the  march  of  the  Russians  at  the  foot  of  the  hill 
and   the    advance    of    the    enemy.       Everything    was 


WAR   AND    PEACE. 


plainly  visible.  The  echoes  of  this  single  shot,  and  the 
broad  radiance  of  the  sun  piercing  its  veil  of  clouds 
mingled  in  a  common  impression  of  life  and  stir. 

Two  of  the  enemy's  balls  had  fallen  across  the 
bridge,  and  the  bridge  was  now  crowded.  Half-way 
across,  leaning  against  the  parapet,  stood  Prince  Nes- 
vitsky,  laughing  and  looking  at  his  Cossack  who,  a  few 
feet  off,  was  holding  the  horses.  He  tried  once  or  twice 
to  proceed,  but  the  soldiers  and  wagons  forced  him 
back  against  the  parapet  and  again  he  smiled. 

"  Look  out,  there !"  said  the  Cossack  to  a  soldier 
who  was  driving  a  wagon  and  pushing  his  way  through 
the  foot-soldiers  that  were  packed  round  the  wheels. 
**Look  out!  wait  a  minute,  make  way  for  the  General." 

But  the  driver,  paying  no  heed  whatever  to  the  title 
of  General,  only  shouted  to  the  men  who  blocked  the 
road. 

"  Now  then  lads  to  the  left  —  look  out !"  But  the 
^*  lads,"  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  their  bayonets  almost 
interlocked,  marched  on  in  a  dense  mass.  Nesvitsky, 
looking  down,  could  see  the  little,  babbling  waves  of 
the  rapid  Enns,  running  after  each  other,  mingling,  and 
breaking  in  white  foam  under  the  arch  of  the  bridge ; 
looking  round  him  he  saw  the  living  waves  of  soldiers, 
in  endless  succession  like  those  below — waves  of  shakos 
with  their  covers  on,  of  knapsacks,  of  guns  with  their 
spiky  bayonets,  of  faces  with  high  cheek-bones — hollow- 
jawed,  weary  but  thoughtless  —  and  of  trampling  feet 
over  the  muddy  beams  of  the  wooden  bridge.  And 
now  and  then   an   officer  in   his  cloak   forced   his   way 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  221 

through  the  stream  like  the  crests  of  white  foam  that 
rode  on  the  waters  of  the  Enns.  Here  and  there,  car- 
ried along  by  the  mass  of  soldiers,  came  a  dismounted 
hussar,  an  officer's  servant,  or  a  native  of  the  town,  like 
chips  borne  down  by  the  current;  or  again  an  officer's 
or  a  company's  baggage- wagon  covered  with  leather 
floated  slowly  past  above  the  surface  of  the  stream,. like 
a  log  going  down  the  river. 

"  It  is  like  a  flood  through  a  broken  dyke,"  said  the 
Cossack,  unable  to  stir.  "  I  say  —  are  there  many  more 
to  come  ?" 

"  A  million  all  but  one !"  retorted  a  wag  in  the 
ranks,  winking  his  eye  and  rubbing  it  with  a  corner  of 
his  ragged  cloak.  Next  to  him  came  a  solemn  old 
soldier  who  was  saying  to  his  neighbor : 

"  Now  that  he  (the  enemy)  is  going  to  warm  the 
bridge  we  cannot  stop  to  scratch  ourselves.  .  .  ."  And 
they  passed  on. 

Behind  them  came  a  wagon,  with  a  military  servant 
fumbling  under  the  tilt  and  exclaiming : 

"  Where  the  devil  have  they  hidden  the  screw- 
driver?" and  that,  too,  went  on  its  way.  After  these 
came  a  party  of  soldiers  in  high  spirits,  having  a  few 
drops  of  brandy  on  their  conscience. 

"  He  drove  the  butt  end  of  his  gun  well  into  his 
teeth,  poor  dear!"  said  one  of  them  with  a  giggle;  his 
hood  was  up  and  he  gesticulated  vehemently. 

"  It  was  well  done  for  such  a  molly-coddle,"  said 
the  other  laughing ;  and  they  went  by,  so  that  Nesvitsky 


222  WAR   ANDT   PEACE. 

never  knew  who  had  been  struck  with  the  gun-stock,  or 
to  whom  the  word  molly-coddle  applied. 

"  What  is  the  hurry  ?  Because  the  enemy  has  burnt 
a  charge  of  powder  they  think  they  are  all  going  to  be 
killed  !"  growled  a  subaltern. 

"  When  I  heard  the  ball  whistle  past  me  do  3^011 
know,  old  Daddy,  I  quite  lost  my  breath  ;  what  a  fright 
I  was  in  !  Good  God !"  said  a  young  soldier,  laughing 
from  ear  to  ear,  as  if  he  were  proud  of  having  been 
frightened.  —  And  he,  too,  tramped  by. 

Next  came  a  vehicle  quite  unlike  any  that  had  pre- 
ceded it;  it  was  a  German  cart  with  two  horses,  driven 
by  a  countryman  and  carrying  a  mountain  of  house- 
hold goods.  A  fine  piebald  cow  was  tied  up  to  follow 
it;  on  a  heap  of  eider-down  quilts  sat  a  woman  nunsing 
a  baby,  an  old  granny,  and  a  handsome,  rosy-cheeked 
girl.  The  party  had  no  doubt  obtained  a  special  per- 
mit. The  two  young  women  had  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  soldiers  who,  as  the  cart  went  slowly  forward, 
did  not  spare  their  jests  : 

"  Look  at  the  great  German  sausage  moving  her 
goods.  .  .  ." 

"  I  will  buy  the  little  wife  if  she  is  for  sale,"  said 
another  to  the  German  who  hurried  on,  scared  and 
savage,  with  his  head  down. 

**  Isn't  she  smart  ?  The  little  hussies !  It  would 
just  suit  you  to  lodge  with  them,  Fedotow  ?" 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  asked  an  infantry  officer 
smiHng  up  at  the  girl;  he  was  eating  an  apple.  The 
German  signed  that  they  none  of  them  understood. 


WAR   AND   PEACE.  223 

"  Would  you  like  it  ?  You  may  have  it,*  said  the  offi- 
cer handing  the  apple  to  the  girl  who  took  it  and  smiled. 
Every  eye,  including  Nesvitsky's,  was  fixed  on  the  women 
as  they  passed  on ;  then  came  the  endless  files  of  soldiers 
again,  with  the  same  cross-fire  of  words  till  presently 
all  once  more  came  to  a  stand-still  because  a  horse  in 
one  of  the  baggage-wagons  had  got  entangled  in  the 
harness,  a  not  uncommon  accident  on  the  down-slope 
of  a  bridge. 

"  Now  then,  what  are  we  waiting  for  ?  What  con- 
fusion.—  Don't  push  !  Devil  take  it,  don't  hurry  !  It 
will  be  worse  than  this  when  they  fire  the  timbers  .  .  . 
That  officer  is  being  squeezed  to  a  jelly !"  These  and 
other  cries  rose  from  the  mass  of  soldiers,  who  looked 
at  each  other  or  pressed  forward. 

Suddenly  Nesvitsky  heard  a  sound  that  was  new  to 
his  experience;  something  flew  straight  towards  him  — 
a  large  object,  that  fell  into  the  water  with  a  heavy 
splash. 

"  I  say,  look  where  that  came  to  !"  said  a  soldier 
very  seriously  as  he  looked  round. 

"  Well,  it  is  to  encourage  us  to  trot  a  little  faster," 
said  another  with  some  uneasiness.  And  Nesvitsky  un- 
derstood that  the  object  in  question  was  a  shell. 

"  Here,  Cossack  !  My  horse  !"  he  said.  "  And 
make  way  there,  do  you  hear  ?     Make  way." 

It  was  not  without  a  struggle  that  he  got  on  his 
horse  and  made  his  way  against  the  crowd  shouting  to 
the  right  and  left.  The  soldiers  squeezed  a  Htde  closer 
to  let  him  pass,  but  they  were  thrown  back  by  the  outer 


2  24  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

ranks  and  his  leg  was  caught  and  nipped  as  if  in  a 
vice. 

"  Nesvitsky,  Nesvitsky,  you  are  the  very  man.  ..." 

Nesvitsky  turned  at  this  address  spoken  in  a  hoarse 
voice,  and  saw  only  a  few  paces  distant  but  parted  from 
him  by  the  rolHng  sea  of  marching  men,  Vaska  Denis- 
sow,  with  his  hair  on  end,  his  cap  pushed  back  and  his 
pelisse  flung  over  his  shoulder. 

"Just  tell  those  creatures  to  make  way  for  us,"  cried 
Denissow  brandishing  his  sheathed  sabre  in  his  small 
hand,  which  was  as  red  as  his  face. 

"Ah!  Vaska,"  cried  Nesvitsky  delighted.  "What 
are  you  doing  here?" 

"The  squadron  cannot  get  through,"  said  Denissow 
spurring  his  fine  black  Arab,  whose  ears  were  quivering 
as  he  felt  the  accidental  touch  of  the  bayonets,  while, 
flecked  with  foam,  he  pawed  the  beams  of  the  bridge 
and  was  ready  to  leap  the  parapet  if  his  rider  had  not 
held  him  well  in  hand.  "  Good  Heavens!  What  sheep — 
nothing  on  earth  but  sheep.  Stand  back,  make  way ! — 
You,  beyond  that  wagon.  Stop! — stand  still  or  I  will 
cut  you  all  down!" 

He  drew  his  sabre  and  flourished  it  ominously. 
The  intimidated  soldiers  packed  closer,  and  Denissow 
succeeded  in  joining  Nesvitsky. 

"  So  you  are  sober  to-day  ?"  said  Nesvitsky. 

"Have  I  time  to  drink?  All  day  long  the  regi- 
ment is  being  sent  this  Avay  and  that.  If  we  are  to 
fight,  well  and  good;  let  us  fight.  But  as  it  is  the 
devil  only  knoAvs  what  we  are  at." 


WAR   AND   PEACE.  225 

"  And  you  are  so  elegant !"  added  Nesvitsky,  glanc- 
ing at  his  pelisse  and  at  his  horse's  saddle-cloth.  Den- 
issow  smiled,  and  pulling  his  perfumed  handkerchief 
out  of  his  sabretasche  he  held  it  under  his  friend's  nose. 

"Of  course,"  he  said,  "we  may  have  to  fight. — 
Shaved,  scented,  teeth  well  brushed  !  .  .  .  " 

Nesvitsky's  imposing  presence,  followed  by  his  Cos- 
sack and  added  to  Denissow's  determination  produced 
an  effect.  They  got  across  the  bridge  and  now  it  was 
their  turn  to  stop  the  infantry;  Nesvitsky,  having  found 
the  colonel,  deHvered  the  orders  of  which  he  was  the 
bearer,  and  retraced  his  steps. 

The  road  once  cleared,  Denissow  took  up  his  po- 
sition at  one  end  of  the  bridge,  and  Hghtly  holding  his 
stalHon  that  stood  pawing  the  ground,  he  watched  his 
men  pass  by,  four  abreast,  the  officers  leading  the  way. 
The  whole  squadron  formed  to  cross  to  the  other  side, 
while  the  foot-soldiers  drawn  up  and  standing  in  the 
mud  looked  on  at  the  proud,  smart  hussars  with  that 
ironical  glance  which  is  peculiar  to  soldiers  of  different 
corps  when  they  happen  to  meet. 

"Very  pretty  fellows!  Fit  to  be  seen  in  the  Pod- 
novinsky.*  But  there  is  no  work  to  be  got  out  of 
them;  they  are  all  for  show!" 

"  Now,  you  infantry  men,  do  not  kick  up  the  dust," 
said  a  hussar,  laughing  as  his  horse  splashed  a  foot-sol- 
dier with  mud. 

"  Ah,  if  they  had  made  you  march  two  stages  with 
a  knapsack  on  your  back,  your  gold  lace  would  not 

*  A  promenade  at  Moscow. 
Vol.  I.  15 


226  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

look  SO  new !  .  .  .  A  man !  Why  you  are  a  bird  on  horse- 
back," and  the  infantry-man  wiped  his  face  on  his 
sleeve. 

"Right  you  are,  Likine. —  If  you  were  on  horse- 
back how  nice  you  would  look!"  said  a  corporal  to  a 
poor  Httle  soldier  bending  under  the  weight  of  his  kit. 

"Put  a  stick  between  your  legs  and  ride  a-cock- 
horse,"  retorted  the  hussar. 

The  rest  of  the  infantry  were  being  rapidly  hurried 
across;  the  wagons  were  safely  over;  the  crush  was  less 
and  the  last  battalion  were  on  the  bridge.  Denissow's 
hussars,  drawn  up  on  the  other  side,  could  not  yet  see 
the  enemy  who  were  however  plainly  visible  from  the 
opposite  heights.  The  horizon,  from  the  plain  below 
was  cut  off  by  a  hill  about  a  third  of  a  mile  off.  In  the 
foreground  was  a  plot  of  common  where  the  Cossack 
outposts  were  moving  about. 

Suddenly,  on  the  crown  of  the  hill  just  above  them, 
some  artillery  and  blue  capotes  came  into  view — the 
French !  The  officers  and  soldiers  of  Denissow's  squad- 
ron, though  they  tried  to  talk  of  indifferent  subjects  and 
to  look  about  them,  could  really  think  of  nothing  but 
of  what  was  going  forward  on  the  opposite  ridge,  and 
involuntarily  they  looked  up  at  the  black  objects  that 
stood  out  against  the  sky  for  they  knew  that  those  black 
objects  were  the  foe. 

It  was  now  past  noon  and  the  weather  had  cleared; 
a  brilliant  sun  was  moving  westward  over  the  Danube 
and  the  surrounding  hills;  the  air  was  windless,  rent 
now  and  then  by  the  bugle  call  and  the  shouts  of  the 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  22/ 

enemy.  The  French  had  ceased  firing,  and  for  some 
distance  nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  the  patrols.  There 
was  in  the  air  that  indefinable  sense  of  distance,  omi- 
nous and  immeasurable,  which  lies  between  two  hostile 
armies  face  to  face.  One  step  beyond  the  boundary 
on  either  side  lies  something  that  suggests  that  other 
boundary  which  divides  the  dead  from  the  living. 
What  is  it?  Is  it  the  dread  Unknown  of  suffering  and 
death?  What  is  it? — just  beyond  that  field,  on  the 
other  side  of  that  tree,  of  that  roof  on  which  the  sun  is 
shining? —  Who  can  tell,  and  who  does  not  wish  to 
know?  The  soldier  fears  and  yet  longs  to  cross  the 
line,  for  he  feels  that,  sooner  or  later,  he  must,  and  that 
then  he  will  know  what  lies  beyond  as  surely  as  he  will 
know  what  lies  beyond  this  life. —  He  is  full  of  exuber- 
ant vigor,  of  health,  spirits,  and  courage,  and  those 
around  him  are  just  as  eager,  just  as  brave  as  him- 
self   

These  are  the  sensations,  if  not  actually  the  thoughts, 
of  every  man  in  front  of  the  enemy,  and  they  lend  a 
singular  vividness,  an  indescribable  distinctness  and 
precision,  to  every  incident  that  takes  place  during 
those  few  minutes. 

A  pufi"  of  smoke  rose  from  the  hill  and  a  ball 
whistled  over  the  heads  of  the  hussars.  The  officers, 
who  had  been  talking  in  a  knot,  returned  each  to  his 
post;  the  men  pulled  their  horses  into  line.  Perfect  si- 
lence reigned  in  the  ranks  and  every  eye  was  turned 
from  the  foe  in  front  to  the  officer  in  command,  watch- 
ing for  the  word  of  command.     A  second  and  third 


228  WAR   AND   PEACE. 

ball  came  singing  through  the  air;  they  were  evidently 
aimed  at  them,  but  they  flew  too  far,  and  were  lost  be- 
yond and  behind  the  squadron.  The  men  never  looked 
round,  but  as  the  long-drawn  whistle  passed  over  them 
they  started  in  their  stirrups  as  one  man,  and  each  one, 
without  turning  his  head,  cast  a  side  glance  at  his 
neighbor  to  see  what  effect  it  had  on  him.  From  Den- 
issow  down  to  the  bugler  every  face  showed  a  slight 
quiver  of  the  lips  and  chin,  betraying  an  internal  spasm 
of  excitement  and  self-control.  The  quarter-master,  a 
surly-looking  fellow,  looked  at  the  men  as  though  he 
were  intending  to  punish  them.  A  young  subaltern 
named  Mironow  bent  his  head  under  each  ball;  Ros- 
tow,  posted  on  the  left  and  sitting  his  sleek  "Crow" 
looked  as  happy  as  a  school-boy  who  feels  sure  of  dis- 
tinguishing himself  in  a  public  examination  before  a 
crowded  audience.  He  looked  round  at  his  comrades 
radiant  and  fearless,  as  if  to  call  them  to  witness  that  he 
was  cool  under  the  enemy's  fire;  but  even  on  his  face 
an  involuntary  frown  was  graven  by  this  new  and 
solemn  experience. 

"Who  is  that  bowing?  Hallo,  Mironow,  that  will 
not  do — look  at  me!"  cried  Denissow,  who  was  too 
restless  to  keep  quiet  and  was  trotting  his  horse  up  and 
down  the  line.  The  little  man  looked  just  the  same  as 
usual,  snub-nosed  and  black-haired.  He  grasped  the 
hilt  of  his  drawn  sword  in  his  small  strong  hand  with 
its  short  fingers:  it  was  the  Denissow  of  every  day — or 
rather  of  every  evening  after  emptying  two  bottles. 
His  face  was  rather  ruddier  than  usual ;  he  tossed  back 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  229 

his  curly  head  as  a  bird  does  after  drinking,  he  spurred 
his  Arab  unmercifully,  he  gallopped  down  to  the  left 
flank  and,  in  a  hoarse  voice,  ordered  the  men  to  see  to  the 
loading  of  their  pistols.  Then  he  turned  to  meet  Kir- 
stein  who  came  riding  up  on  a  heavy,  peaceable-look- 
ing mare. 

"What,  what?"  said  the  captain,  grave  as  usual  but 
with  a  bright  light  in  his  eyes.  "What,  what!  We 
shall  not  come  to  blows,  you  will  see.  We  shall  re- 
tire." 

"The  devil  only  knows  what  they  are  at,"  growled 
Denissow.  "  Ah  !  Rostow  !"  he  exclaimed  catching 
sight  of  \\\tjicfiker's  smiling  face.  "  So  you  are  at  the 
fete !" 

Rostow  felt  perfectly  happy.  At  this  instant  a  gen- 
eral was  seen  on  the  bridge.  Denissow  rushed  for- 
ward. 

"  Your  Excellency,  let  us  attack  them ;  I  will  upset 
them  completely." 

"  Attack  them  indeed !"  said  the  general  frowning  as 
if  to  get  rid  of  a  troublesome  fly.  "  What  are  you 
doing  here  ?  The  scouts  are  retiring.  Take  your  men 
back." 

The  first  and  second  squadrons  of  horse  recrossed 
the  bridge,  got  beyond  the  enemy's  range  and  rode  up 
the  hill  without  losing  a  single  man.  The  last  of  the 
Cossacks  retired  from  the  bank. 

On  the  hither  side  of  the  bridge  Colonel  Karl  Bog- 
danitch  Schoubert  came  up  with  Denissow's  division 
but  did  not  go  beyond  a  foot-pace,  riding  almost  by  the 


230  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

side'  of  Rostow ;  however,  he  took  no  notice  of  the 
young  subaltern  whom  he  now  saw  for  the  first  time 
since  their  dispute  about  TeHanine.  Rostow,  riding  in 
his  place,  felt  himself  in  the  power  of  his  superior, 
towards  whom  he  felt  he  was  guilty ;  he  never  took  his 
eyes  off  his  broad  back,  his  red  neck  and  his  light, 
short  hair.  He  thought  that  Bogdanitch  was  pretend- 
ing not  to  see  him,  that  he  wanted  to  test  his  courage — 
and  the  lad  drew  himself  up  and  looked  boldly  about 
him.  He  fancied  that  Bogdanitch  kept  close  to  him  on 
purpose  to  make  a  display  of  his  coolness ;  or,  again, 
that  in  order  to  revenge  himself  on  Rostow  he  would 
send  the  division  into  some  desperate  skirmish,  and  he 
dreamed  of  his  coming,  after  it  was  over,  to  meet  him — 
Rostow,  wounded,  and  to  give  him  his  hand  in  token 
of  reconciliation. 

Gerkow,  whose  broad,  square  shoulders  were  well 
known  to  the  Pavlograd  hussars,  now  came  up  to  the 
colonel.  Gerkow  was  sent  by  the  staff  officers  ;  he  had 
not  staid  in  the  regiment,  he  was  not  such  a  fool,  as  he 
had  said  to  himself,  when  by  getting  attached  to  any 
staff  he  could  have  nothing  to  do  and  a  chance  for 
promotion.  He  had,  in  fact,  succeeded  in  getting  him- 
self appointed  as  an  orderly  to  Prince  Bagration,  and 
he  now  had  come  to  deliver  a  message  from  the  colonel 
of  the  reaf  division  to  his  former  chief 

"  Colonel,"  he  said  with  gloomy  gravity  to  Rostow's 
enemy,  "  you  are  ordered  to  stop  and  burn  the 
bridge." 

"  Who  ?  —  I  am  ordered  !"  said  the  colonel  surlily. 


WAR   AND    PEACE. 


'31 


"  Ah  !  that  I  do  not  know.  —  Who  ?  You  are  or- 
dered !"  replied  Gerkow  with  no  less  gravity.  "  The 
prince  merely  sent  me  to  tell  you  to  bring  back  your 
hussars  and  bum  the  bridge." 

At  this  moment  a  staff  officer  rode  up,  bringing  the 
same  orders  and  followed  closely  by  Prince  Nesvitsky 
riding  as  hard  as  his  Cossack  horse  would  carry  him. 

"  Colonel,  I  told  you  that  you  were  to  burn  the 
bridge  .  .  .  There  has  been  some  misunderstanding.  — 
Every  one  has  lost  his  head  and  makes  some  blunder !" 

The  colonel  quite  deliberately  made  his  men  halt 
and  then  turning  to  Nesvitsky  he  said  : 

"  You  only  mentioned  combustibles;  as  to  burning 
the  bridge  you  never  told  me  a  word  about  it." 

"  What,  little  Father,  I  never  told  you  ?"  said  Nes- 
vitsky taking  off  his  cap  and  pushing  his  fingers 
through  his  hair  which  was  quite  wet  with  perspiration, 
"  when  I  told  about  the  combustibles  ?" 

"  In  the  first  place  I  am  not  your  '  little  Father  '  I 
would  have  you  to  know,  though  you  are  a  staff  officer; 
and  you  did  not  tell  me  to  burn  the  bridge.  I  know  my 
duty  and  I  am  in  the  habit  of  carrying  out  the  orders  I  re- 
ceive to  the  letter.  You  said :  '  The  bridge  is  to  be  burnt' 
and  how  could  I  guess,  unless  by  direct  inspiration, 
Avho  was  to  burn  it  ?" 

"  It  is  always  the  way,"  said  Nesvitsky  with  an  im- 
patient gesture.  "And  you  —  what  are  you  doing  here?" 
he  added  to  Gerkow. 

"  I  came  on  the  same  errand. — Why  you  are  as  wet 
as  a  sponge !  Shall  I  wring  you  out  ?" 


232  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

"  What  you  said  to  me,"  the  colonel  began  once 
more  in  an  offended  tone. 

"  Now,  Colonel,  make  haste,"  cried  the  officer  inter- 
rupting him,  "  or  the  enemy  will  fire  into  us." 

Bogdanitch  looked  from  one  to  another  with  a  scowl. 

"  I  will  burn  the  bridge,"  he  said  solemnly,  as  if  to 
testify  that  he  would  do  his  duty  in  spite  of  all  the  diffi- 
culties placed  in  his  way.  He  struck  his  spurs  into  his 
horse  with  two  vigorous  kicks  of  his  long  shanks  as 
though  the  poor  beast  were  in  fault,  and  rode  forward 
to  order  Denissow's  squadron  to  go  back  to  the  bridge. 

"  That  is  it,"  thought  Rostow,  *'  he  wants  to  try  me." 

His  heart  beat  quicker  and  his  temples  throbbed. 
"  Well,  he  may  look  !    He  shall  see  if  I  am  a  coward  !" 

The  pinched  look  that  the  men's  eager  faces  had 
worn  when  the  balls  whistled  past  came  back  again  now. 
Rostow  never  took  his  eyes  off  his  enemy  the  colonel, 
trying  to  read  in  his  face  some  confirmation  of  his  sus- 
picions; but  the  colonel  never  even  looked  at  him  but 
sat  inspecting  the  men  with  stern  solemnity. 

He  gave  the  word  of  command. 

"Quick,  quick,"  he  heard  them  shout  close  to  him. 
The  men's  swords  caught  in  the  harness  and  their  spurs 
rattled  as  they  dismounted,  not  knowing  what  was 
coming  next.  Some  crossed  themselves.  Rostow  had 
ceased  to  gaze  at  his  chief;  he  had  no  time  for  that. 
His  fear  was  lest  he  should  be  left  behind;  his  hand 
shook  as  he  flung  his  horse's  reins  to  the  soldier  who 
was  to  be  left  in  charge,  and  he  could  hear  his  heart 
beat.     Denissow,  leaning   back,    said  a  few  words  to 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  233 

him  as  he  rode  past.  Rostow  saw  nothing  but  the  hus- 
sars who  were  running  on,  hampered  by  their  spurs, 
and  their  sabres  clattering  by  their  sides. 

"A  Htter!"  shouted  a  voice  behind  him,  but  the 
words  conveyed  no  meaning  to  Rostow.  He  ran  on 
to  keep  in  front,  but  as  he  put  his  foot  on  the  bridge  he 
stumbled  and  fell  with  his  hands  in  the  deep  greasy 
mud.     The  others  got  ahead. 

"At  both  sides!  Captain!"  shouted  the  colonel, 
who  was  sitting  on  his  horse,  not  far  from  the  bridge, 
with  a  radiant  and  triumphant  expression. 

Rostow  scrambled  up  and  wiped  his  hands  on  the 
leather  back  of  his  cavalry  trousers;  then;  glancing  at 
Bogdanitch,  he  again  rushed  forward,  thinking  that  the 
further  he  went  the  better  it  would  be;  but  the  colonel 
called  him  back  without  recognizing  him. 

"Who  is  that  running  on  the  middle  of  the  bridge? 
Junker,  come  back!"  he  cried  in  a  rage,  and  he  added 
to  Denissow,  who,  out  of  sheer  foolhardiness,  had 
ridden  on  to  the  bridge: 

"Why  do  you  run  such  a  risk,  Captain?  Get  off 
your  horse.  Sir!" 

Denissow,  turning  in  his  saddle,  muttered:  "He 
has  always  some  fault  to  find." 

Meanwhile  Nesvitsky,  Gerkow  and  the  staff-officer, 
being  out  of  range  of  the  enemy's  fire,  were  watching 
first  tlie  little  group  of  men  in  dark  green  laced  jackets, 
yellow  shakos,  and  blue  trousers  who  were  bustling 
about  the  bridge,  and  then  the  blue  coats  that  were 
marching  onwards  followed  by  horses  and  artillery. 


234  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

Will  they  bum  the  bridge  or  will  they  not?  Which 
will  gain  the  day  —  they,  or  the  French  who  are  firing 
mto  them?  Every  man  in  that  vast  mass  of  troops 
concentrated  on  a  single  spot  is  asking  himself  this 
question  as  he  watches  the  progress  of  the  scene,  now 
lighted  up  by  the  setting  sun. 

"Oh!"  cried  Nesvitsky.  "Our  hussars  will  catch  it 
now;  they  are  within  range  of  the  guns." 

"  He  took  too  many  men,"  said  the  staff-officer. 

"To  be  sure  he  did;  a  couple  of  steady  fellows 
would  have  done  the  job,"  said  Nesvitsky. 

"Oh!  Your  Excellency,  how  can  you  say  so!"  re- 
marked Gerkow,  still  watching  the  hussars.  He  spoke 
with  that  odd  mixture  of  simplicity  and  irony  which 
left  it  doubtful  whether  or  no  he  were  in  earnest. 
"What  an  idea!  Two  men;  how  should  the  rest  of  us 
get  our  crosses  or  the  ribbon  at  our  button-holes  ?  . . . . 
Let  them  catch  it — then  the  regiment  will  be  reported 
and  every  one  may  hope  to  gain  his  order:  the  colonel 
knows  very  well  Avhat  he  is  about." 

"Here  comes  the  grape-shot!"  said  the  officer,  point- 
ing to  the  enemy's  guns  which  were  being  unlimbered. 
A  cloud  of  smoke  rose  into  the  air,  then  a  second  and 
a  third  almost  together,  and  the  fourth  shot  went  off 
by  the  time  the  report  of  the  first  had  reached  them. 

"Oh!"  groaned  Nesvitsky  as  if  he  felt  some  acute 
and  sudden  pain,  and  he  grasped  his  companion's 
hand. 

"Look  —  one  fell  —  one  is  down  .  .  .  ." 

"Two,  I  think." 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  235 

"If  I  were  a  monarch,  I  would  never  make  war!"^ 
cried  Nesvitsky  turning  away. 

The  French  pieces  were  briskly  served,  and  smoke 
rose  again  from  several  points.  The  blue-coated  in- 
fantry rushed  down  towards  the  bridge  on  which  the 
grape-shot  fell  rattling  like  a  storm  of  hail.  But  Nes- 
vitsky saw  no  more.  A  thick  smoke  shrouded  the 
scene;  the  Russians  had  succeeded  in  setting  the  tim- 
bers in  a  blaze,  and  the  French  batteries  were  no  longer 
firing  to  prevent  them,  but  because  the  guns  were 
loaded  and  there  was  no  one  else  to  fire  at. 

The  French  had  delivered  three  charges  by  the  time 
the  hussars  had  got  back  to  their  horses;  two  had  been 
badly  directed  and  had  gone  over  the  heads  of  the 
Russians,  but  the  third  was  sent  into  the  middle  of  a 
party  of  soldiers  and  three  were  hit. 

Rostow,  thinking  of  nothing  but  his  relations  with 
the  colonel,  had  stopped  short  in  the  middle  of  the 
bridge,  not  knowing  what  to  do.  There  Avas  no  one 
there  to  cut  down.  Cutting  down  had  always  been  his 
one  idea  of  a  battle,  and  as  he  had  no  wisp  of  burning 
straw  like  the  others  he  could  not  help  to  set  the  bridge 
on  fire.  So  there  he  stood,  undecided,  when  he  heard 
a  noise  on  the  timbers  like  a  pelt  of  walnuts,  and  a  hus- 
sar fell  near  him  with  a  groan.  Rostow  ran  to  help; 
men  were  called  up  with  litters  and  the  wounded  man 
was  raised  and  placed  upon  one. 

"Oh!  let  me  be,  for  God's  sake!"  moaned  the  sol- 
dier; but  they  took  him  up  and  carried  him  away. 

Rostow  turned  away;  he  gazed  into  the  distance: 


236 


WAR   AND    PEACE. 


he  might  have  been  trying  to  discover  something 
there;  then  he  looked  at  the  river,  at  the  sky,  at  the 
sun.  How  blue  the  sky  looked,  how  deep  and  restful! 
How  bright  and  glorious  was  the  setting  sun!  How 
the  waves  of  the  Danube  danced  and  sparkled  in  the 
distance!  And  far  away  in  the  background  lay  the 
blue  mountains  with  their  mysterious  recesses,  the  con- 
vent, the  pine  forests  veiled  by  a  transparent  haze  .  .  . 
All  was  peace  there — peace  and  happiness! 

"Ah!  if  I  might  have  lived  there  I  could  have 
wished  for  nothing  more,"  thought  the  lad — "  nothing! — 
I  feel  so  much  that  could  have  made  me  happy,  in  my- 
self and  in  that  bright  sun  .  .  .  while  here  .  .  .  shrieks  of 
pain,  terror,  confusion,  hurry  .  .  .  more  cries  and  every- 
one pushes  back,  and  I  am  running  like  the  rest 

and  there  it  is  again:  Death!  close  over  me!  One 
second  more  perhaps,  and  I  shall  never  again  see  the 
sun,  and  the  river,  and  the  mountains !  ,  .  ." 

The  sun  was  veiled  in  clouds;  they  were  carrying 
litters  past  him.  The  dread  of  death  and  of  a  litter,  the 
love  of  life  and  sunshine,  were  all  mixed  up  in  one  feel- 
ing of  anguish  and  pain. 

"  Oh  God  in  heaven  keep  me,  pardon  me,  and  pro- 
tect me!"  murmured  Rostow. 


The  hussars  were  remounting,  the  voices  round  him 
became  less  confused,  the  litters  had  vanished. 

"Well,  my  boy,  so  you  have  smelt  powder?"  said 
Denissow  close  to  his  ear. 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  237 

"It  is  all  over,  and  I  am  a  coward  —  a  born 
coward!"  thought  Rostow  as  he  sprang  into  his  saddle. 

"That  was  grape-shot?"  he  asked  Denissow. 

"I  believe  you,  and  a  heavy  peppering  too!  We 
have  worked  pretty  hard.  It  was  a  hot  corner!  An 
attack  is  one  thing,  but  to  be  fired  at  as  a  mark  is  an- 
other   " 

And  Denissow  moved  off  to  join  a  group  formed  of 
Nesvitsky  and  his  companions. 

"  I  believe  no  one  noticed  it,"  Rostow  said  to  him- 
self; and  this  was  the  truth,  for  each  one  was  trying  to 
realize  his  own  experience  of  his  feelings  under  the  first 
"baptism  of  fire." 

"By  Heaven,  there  will  be  a  splendid  despatch! 
Perhaps  they  will  give  me  a  lieutenancy!"  said  Ger- 
kow. 

"  Let  the  prince  know  that  I  fired  the  bridge,"  said 
the  colonel  triumphantly. 

"  And  if  he  asks  about  the  loss  ?" 

"Not  worth  mentioning,"  said  Bogdanitch  in  his 
heavy  bass.  "Two  hussars  wounded  and  one  stark 
dead,"  and  he  did  not  try  to  conceal  a  satisfied  smile; 
he  even  seemed  to  smack  his  lips  over  so  happy  a 
phrase  as  "stark  dead." 

Koutouzow's  35,000  men,  opposed  by  a  French 
army  of  100,000  men  with  Bonaparte  at  their  head,  met 
with  hostile  feeling  throughout  the  country.  They  had 
lost  confidence  in  their  allies,  they  lacked  provisions, 
and  now,  being  forced  into  action  under  circumstances 
unforeseen  by  any  rules  of  war,  they  were  beating  a  re- 


^^S  WAR   AND   PEACE. 

treat  in  all  haste.  The}^  made  their  way  down  the 
Danube,  stopping  to  show  fight  to  the  enemy  whom 
they  kept  off  by  skirmishes  in  the  rear,  though  they 
fought  no  more  than  was  necessary  to  effect  their  re- 
treat without  losing  their  baggage.  Engagements  had 
taken  place  at  Lambach,  at  Amstetten  and  at  Melck; 
but,  notwithstanding  the  steadiness  and  courage  of  the 
Russians,  to  which  their  adversaries  did  full  justice,  it 
was  not  the  less  a  retreat — a  genuine  retreat.  The 
Austrians  who  had  escaped  at  the  surrender  of  Ulm 
and  joined  Koutouzow  at  Braunau  had  again  left  him 
with  his  enfeebled  forces.  It  was  no  longer  possible  to 
defend  Vienna  for,  in  spite  of  the  scheme  of  offensive 
warfare  so  scientifically  elaborated  by  the  new-fangled 
laws  of  strategy  and  placed  in  Koutouzow's  hands  by 
the  Austrian  supreme  council  of  war,  his  only  chance 
of  not  sacrificing  his  army,  as  Mack  had  done,  was  to 
effect  a  junction  with  the  troops  arriving  from  Russia. 
It  was  on  the  28th  of  October  that  Koutouzow 
crossed  to  the  left  bank  of  the  Danube  and  there  halted 
for  the  first  time,  having  placed  the  river  between  him- 
self and  the  main  body  of  the  French  army;  here  he 
attacked  Mortier,  who  was  also  on  the  left  bank,  and 
defeated  him.  The  trophies  of  this  battle  were  two 
guns,  a  flag  and  two  generals;  for  the  first  time  in  a  re- 
treat of  fifteen  days  the  Russians  made  a  stand,  harried 
the  French,  and  remained  masters  of  the  field.  In 
spite  of  the  exhausted  state  of  the  troops,  whose  clothes 
were  in  rags  and  who  had  lost  a  third  of  their  number 
in  stragglers,  sick,  dead,  and  wounded  who  had  been 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


239 


left  behind  witli  a  letter  from  Koutouzow  recommending 
them  to  the  tender  mercies  of  their  foes — in  spite  of 
many  more  wounded  in  this  fight,  which  the  regular 
hospitals  and  the  houses  turned  into  infirmaries  could 
not  receive — in  spite  of  every  adverse  circumstance, 
this  pause  at  Krems  and  the  defeat  of  Mortier  had 
done  much  to  raise  the  spirits  of  the  Russians.  Nevv-s 
of  the  most  satisfactory  character,  but  absolutely  un- 
true, was  rumored  in  the  army  and  among  the  staff: 
Russian  reinforcements  Avere  near  at  hand:  the  Aus- 
trians  had  won  a  victory:  Bonaparte  had  beaten  a 
hasty  retreat. 

During  this  fight  Prince  Andre  had  been  by  the 
side  of  the  Austrian  general  Schmidt  when  he  was 
killed;  he  himself  had  had  his  horse  wounded  under 
him  and  his  hand  grazed  by  a  bullet.  As  a  mark  of 
favor  the  commander-in-chief  despatched  him  to  bear 
the  news  of  the  victory  to  Briinn  where  the  Imperial 
Court  had  been  in  residence  ever  since  the  menacing 
proximity  of  the  French  army  had  forced  it  to  quit 
Vienna.  In  the  evening  after  the  battle  Bolkonsky, 
excited  but  not  weary — for,  in  spite  of  his  delicate  ap- 
pearance, he  could  bear  physical  fatigue  better  than 
many  robust  men  —  mounted  his  hOrse  to  carry  Dok- 
tourow's  report  to  Koutouzow,  who  at  once  sent  him  off 
with  it  as  his  special  messenger,  a  certain  augury  of 
speedy  promotion. 

The  night  was  moonless,  the  sky  starry,  the  road 
was  visible  as  a  black  riband  through  the  snow  which 
had   been    falling    during   the    fight.      Prince    Andre, 


240  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

carried  swiftly  along  in  his  post-chaise,  thought  over 
all  the  impressions  and  feelings  that  filled  his  brain:  his 
reminiscences  of  the  struggle,  the  happy  effect  that  the 
news  of  their  victory  would  produce,  and  the  parting 
words  of  Koutouzow  and  of  his  fellow-officers.  He 
Avas  exulting  with  the  secret  joy  of  a  man  who,  after 
long  patience,  sees  the  first  glimmer  of  the  success  he 
has  longed  for.  Whenever  he  shut  his  eyes  the  rattle  of 
musketry  and  thunder  of  cannon  filled  his  ears,  mixed 
up  with  the  rumble  of  the  wheels  and  the  details  of  the 
battle.  He  dreamed  that  the  Russians  were  flying, 
that  he  himself  was  killed;  then  he  woke  with  a  start, 
thankful  to  be  roused  from  the  evil  vision,  but  only  to 
doze  off  again  and  dream  of  his  own  cool  valor.  A 
brilliant  morning  at  length  dawned  on  this  gloomy 
night;  the  snow  was  melting,  the  horses  flew  along,  on 
each  side  of  the  way  spread  woods,  fields,  and  villages. 

At  one  of  the  post-houses  he  came  up  with  a  party 
of  wounded;  the  officer  in  command,  himself  lying  in 
the  foremost  cart,  was  groaning  and  abusing  a  soldier. 
The  wounded  men,  unwashed,  pale,  and  bandaged  in 
blood-stained  rags,  were  crowded  into  large  wagons 
and  jolted  over  the  stony  road;  some  were  talking, 
others  eating  their  dry  bread,  while  the  worst  gazed 
with  calm  and  frank  curiosity,  after  the  courier  as  he 
outstripped  them.  Prince  Andre  stopped  his  chaise  and 
asked  the  men  when  and  where  they  had  been  wounded. 

"The  day  before  yesterday,  by  the  Danube,"  replied 
one  of  them,  and  Prince  Andre  took  out  his  purse  and 
gave  them  three  gold  pieces: 


WAR    AND   PEACE.  24I 

"  For  all  of  them,"  he  said  to  an  officer  who  came 
up.  "Get  well  agam,  my  lads,  there  will  be  plenty  to 
do  yet." 

"What  is  the  news,  Sir?"  asked  the  officer,  evidently 
glad  to  find  someone  to  speak  to. 

"Good  news!  —  Go  on!"  he  cried  to  the  driver. 

It  was  quite  dark  by  the  time  Prince  Andre  got 
into  Briinn  and  found  himself  among  tall  houses,  shops 
lighted  up,  street  lamps,  and  handsome  carriages  rat- 
tling over  the  pavement — the  busy  atmosphere,  in 
short,  of  a  large  town  which  is  so  deHghtful  to  a  soldier 
fresh  from  camp-life.  Notwithstanding  his  hurried 
journey  and  an  almost  sleepless  night  he  felt  even  more 
excited  than  on  the  day  before.  As  he  approached  the 
palace  his  eyes  sparkled  with  fevered  fire  and  his  thoughts 
flowed  with  astonishing  clearness.  Every  detail  of  the 
battle  had  come  out  of  the  confusion  and  presented  it- 
self to  his  mind  in  the  form  of  a  concise  statement — 
such  a  report  as  he  could  give  to  the  Emperor  Francis. 
He  could  hear  the  questions  that  would  be  asked  and 
his  own  replies.  He  felt  sure  that  he  should  at  once 
be  led  into  the  Emperor's  presence;  but  at  the  main  en- 
trance of  the  palace  he  was  met  by  a  functionary  in 
civil  uniform  who,  recognizing  that  he  was  a  special 
messenger,  led  him  to  another  door,  saying:  "The  pas- 
sage to  the  right  if  you  ^\q3.sq,  Jlochg^boren  (High  born 
Sir) ;  you  will  there  find  the  aide-de-camp  on  duty  who 
will  take  you  to  the  minister." 

The  said  aide-de-camp  begged  Prince  Andre  to 
wait  and  went  to  inform  the  minister  of  war  of  his  ar- 

Vt^l.  I.  16 


242  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

rival.  He  returned  in  a  few  minutes,  and  bowing  with 
marked  politeness,  he  made  the  prince  lead  the  way 
along  the  corridor  and  showed  him  into  the  room 
where  the  minister  was  sitting.  The  Austrian's  exces- 
sive politeness  seemed  to  imply  that  he  wished  to  raise 
a  barrier  between  them  that  would  protect  him  against 
every  approach  to  familiarity  on  the  part  of  the  Russian 
aide-de-camp.  As  Prince  Andre  came  more  immedi- 
ately within  reach  of  the  high  official  he  gradually  lost 
the  exultant  feeling  he  had  so  lately  enjoyed,  and  ac- 
quired a  vivid  impression  of  offended  pride,  and  this 
impression,  in  spite  of  himself,  by  degrees  took  the  shape 
of  a  vague  sort  of  contempt.  His  alert  brain  at  once 
suggested  all  the  causes  that  might  give  him  a  right  to 
scorn  this  aide-de-camp  and  this  minister:  "It  seems 
to  them  a  mighty  easy  thing  to  win  a  victory  but  they 
never  smelt  powder  .  .  .  ."  This  was  the  burden  of  his 
thoughts,  and  he  went  into  the  minister's  room  with  an 
affectation  of  deliberateness.  His  smouldering  annoy- 
ance increased  when  he  saw  the  minister,  who  sat 
bending  over  a  table,  between  two  wax-candles,  sup- 
porting his  bald  head  with  its  fringe  of  grey  hair  on  his 
hand,  and  taking  notes;  he  paid  no  attention  to  his 
visitor. 

"Take  this,"  he  said  to  the  aide-de-camp,  holding 
out  papers  and  not  noticing  Bolkonsky. 

"Either,"  said  the  prince  to  himself,  "of  all  the 
business  he  has  in  hand  the  progress  of  Koutouzow's 
army  is  what  interests  him  least  or  he  wants  to  make 
me  think  so." 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  243 

When  he  had  carefully  arranged  his  papers  with 
great  precision  the  minister  looked  up,  showing  a  face 
full  of  intelligence,  character,  and  determination;  but  as 
he  addressed  Prince  Andre  he  put  on  the  regulation 
manner — a  silly,  smiling  affectation  which  becomes 
habitual  to  a  man  who  daily  receives  a  great  number  of 
applicants. 

"From  General  Prince  Koutouzow!  —  Good  news 
I  hope?  An  engagement  with  Mortier  ...  a  victory; 
it  was  high  time!"  and  he  read  the  despatch.  "Ah! 
Mein  Gott,  Schmidt!  what  a  loss,  what  a  loss!"  he  said 
in  German;  and  when  he  had  read  it  he  laid  it  on  the 
table  and  looked  up  anxiously.  "What  a  sad  loss!  — 
You  say  the  action  was  decisive?     But    Mortier  was 

not  taken "  Then  after  a  moment's  silence  he  added: 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  have  your  good  news  though  we 
have  paid  dear  for  it  by  the  death  of  Schmidt.  His 
Majesty  will  no  doubt  wish  to  see  you,  but  not  just 
now.  I  am  much  obliged  to  you.  Now  go  and  rest 
and  to-morrow  try  to  be  on  the  spot  as  his  Majesty 
comes  in  from  parade:  but  I  will  send  you  word. 
Good-day.  His  Majesty  will  certainly  want  to  see 
you,"  he  added  as  he  bowed  him  out. 

As  Prince  Andre  quitted  the  palace  he  felt  as 
though  he  had  left  behind  him,  in  the  hands  of  a  super- 
cilious minister  and  his  obsequious  aide-de-camp,  all 
the  excitement  and  triumph  of  the  victory.  His  frame 
of  mind  had  totally  changed,  and  the  battle  now  wore 
the  aspect  only  of  a  distant — a  very  distant  memory. 


244 


WAR   AND   PEACE. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Prince  Andre  betook  himself  to  the  house  of  a 
Russian  acquaintance  at  Briinn,  the  diplomate  Bilibine. 

"My  dear  Prince,  nothing  could  give  me  greater 
pleasure,"  said  his  friend  coming  out  to  meet  him. 
**  Franz,  take  the  prince's  luggage  into  my  room,"  he 
added  to  the  servant  who  had  admitted  his  visitor. 
"  You  bring  news  of  a  victory,  nothing  could  be  better. 
For  my  part,  I  am  not  well,  as  you  see." 

After  changing  his  dress  Prince  Andre  joined  his 
friend  in  an  elegant  study  where  he  sat  down  to  the 
dinner  that  had  been  got  ready  for  him,  while  Bilibine 
sat  by  the  fire.  It  was  with  great  satisfaction  that 
Prince  Andre  found  himself  once  more  surrounded  by 
the  elements  of  comfort  and  luxury  to  which  he  had 
been  accustomed  from  his  childhood  and  of  which  he 
had  lately  so  often  felt  the  lack.  It  was  pleasant,  too, 
after  his  reception  by  the  Austrian,  to  be  able  to  talk, 
not  indeed  in  Russian,  for  they  spoke  French,  but  with 
a  Russian  who  might  be  supposed  to  share  the  very 
lively  aversion  felt  for  the  Austrians  at  this  juncture. 

Bilibine  was  a  man  of  about  five  and  thirty,  a 
bachelor  and  familiar  with  Prince  Andr6's  circle  of 
friends.  Having  known  each  other  in  St.  Petersburg 
they  had  been  thrown  together  and  had  become  in- 
timate during  Bolkonsky's  sojourn  at  Vienna  in  Kou- 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  245 

touzow's  suite.  Each  was  gifted  with  the  quaUties  best 
fitted  to  insure  him,  in  his  own  line,  a  rapid  and  bril- 
liant career.  Bilibine,  though  still  a  young  man,  was 
not  young  in  diplomacy,  for  he  had  been  an  attache 
from  the  age  of  sixteen;  after  serving  at  Paris  and  at 
Copenhagen,  he  had  come  to  Vienna  where  he  held  an 
important  position.  The  Russian  chancellor  and  the 
ambassador  at  Vienna  both  thought  highly  of  his  talents. 
He  was  by  no  means  one  of  those  gentleman  of  the 
foreign  office  whose  qualities  are  purely  negative,  and 
whose  whole  art  consists  in  never  compromising  them- 
selves and  in  speaking  French;  he  loved  work,  and  in 
spite  of  a  certain  natural  indolence  he  had  often  been 
known  to  spend  the  whole  night  at  the  office.  The 
matter  in  hand  made  no  difference;  what  he  cared  for 
was  not  the  zvhy  but  the  how  of  his  work,  and  he  took 
a  special  pleasure  in  drawing  up  with  ingenious  and 
elegant  skill  any  kind  of  note,  memorandum,  or  report. 
Besides  doing  such  good  service  with  his  pen  he  had 
an  acknowledged  talent  for  conduct  and  appropriate 
speech  in  the  highest  circles  of  society. 

Bilibine  did  not  care  for  any  conversation  that  did 
not  afford  the  opportunity  of  saying  something  note- 
worthy, and  of  throwing  in  those  brilliant  and  original 
touches,  those  subtle  and  keen  remarks  which,  after 
being  elaborated  beforehand  in  the  alembic  of  his  mind, 
were  so  easy  to  remember  that  they  remained  graven 
on  the  hardest  brain.  Bilibine's  sayings  were  passed 
on  round  Vienna  drawing-rooms,  and  sometimes  were 
not  without  influence  on  events. 


246  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

His  face  was  yellow,  lean  and  worn,  and  furrowed 
with  lines  —  lines  so  elaborately  washed  that  he  had 
the  coddled  look  of  a  washer-woman's  fingers  after  long 
soaking;  the  expression  of  his  face  lay  in  the  perpetual 
play  of  these  lines.  Sometimes  it  was  his  forehead  that 
wrinkled,  sometimes  his  eyebrows  that  were  raised  or 
knit,  or  again  his  cheeks  that  puckered.  His  deep-set 
eyes  had  always  a  gay,  straightforward  look. 

"Well,  tell  me  of  your  exploits." 

Bolkonsky  at  once,  with  much  modesty,  told  him 
the  history  of  the  battle  and  of  his  reception  by  the  min- 
ister: "I  and  my  news  were  made  as  welcome  as  a  dog 
at  a  game  of  skittles." 

Bilibine  smiled  and  his  wrinkles  relaxed. 

"At  the  same  time,  my  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  gazing 
at  his  nails  while  his  left  eye  puckered  into  a  wink, 
"and  notwithstanding  the  high  estimation  in  which  I 
hold  the  arms  of  orthodox  Russia,  your  victory  does 
not  seem  to  be  a  remarkably  victorious  one." 

He  spoke  French,  only  using  a  Russian  word  now 
and  then,  when  he  wished  to  give  it  scornful  emphasis. 
"You  fell  with  all  your  weight  on  that  wretched  Mor- 
tier  who  had  only  one  division,  and  Mortier  has  slipped 
between  your  fingers  .  .  .  Where  is  the  victory?" 

"But  without  boasting,  you  will  allow  that  it  is 
better  than  Ulm  ?" 

"Why  could  you  not  take  one  marshal  prisoner, 
one  single  marshal  ?" 

"  Because  events  do  not  fall  out  according  to  our 


WAR    ANf>  PEACE.  247 

wishes  and  cannot  be  arranged  beforehand  like  a  re- 
view. We  hoped  to  put  them  to  rout  by  seven  in  the 
morning,  and  we  did  not  succeed  in  doing  it  till  five  in 
-the  evening." 

"And  why  did  you  not  succeed  at  seven  in  the 
morning  ?     You  ought  to  have  succeeded." 

"  Why  did  you  not  give  Napoleon  a  hint  through 
some  diplomatist  that  he  had  better  abandon  Genoa?" 
retorted  Prince  Andre  in  the  same  mocking  tone. 

"Oh,  yes!  I  know!"  said  Bilibine.  "As  you  sit  by 
your  fire  you  say  to  yourself  that  it  is  easy  enough  to 
capture  marshals  and  so  it  is  —  but  you  have  not  done 
it.  Why  not? — You  need  not  wonder  if  the  Emperor 
and  King  Franz,  following  the  minister's  lead,  are  not 
overwhelmingly  grateful  over  this  victory.  I  myself,  a 
humble  secretary  to  the  Russian  embassy,  feel  no  irre- 
sistible impulse  to  air  my  enthusiasm  by  giving  my  ser- 
vant a  thaler  and  leave  to  take  a  walk  in  the  Prater 
with  his  '' Liebcheti' — but  I  forgot,  there  is  no  Prater 
here."  He  looked  at  Prince  Andre  and  his  brow  sud- 
denly smoothed. 

"Now,  my  friend,  it  is  my  turn  to  ask  why,"  said 
Bolkonsky,  "for  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  do  not  under- 
stand it  all.  Perhaps  there  are  some  subtle  diplomatic 
mysteries  at  work  which  are  beyond  my  feeble  compre- 
hension, but  it  is  all  dark  to  me.  Mack  has  sacrificed  a 
whole  army,  while  the  Archdukes  Charles  and  Ferdi- 
nand give  no  sign  of  life  and  commit  blunder  after 
blunder.  Koutouzow  is  the  only  man  who  honestly 
gains  a  battle,  and  breaks  the  French  spell,  and  the 


248  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

minister  of  war  does  not  even  care  to  know  the  detau'j^ 
of  the  fight." 

*'That  is  the  marrow  of  the  matter.  Don't  you  see 
my  good  fellow!  Hurrah  for  the  Czar,  for  Russia,  for 
the  Faith!  That  is  all  very  fine,  but  what  do  we  care — 
I  mean  what  does  the  court  of  Austria  care  —  for  all 
your  victories  ?  Bring  us  news  now  of  the  success  of  an 
archduke  —  Charles  or  Ferdinand — they  are,  as  you 
know  one  as  good  as  the  other — a  victory,  let  us  say, 
over  a  party  of  Bonaparte's  sappers,  and  it  will  be 
quite  another  thing;  it  will  be  proclaimed  with  a  flour- 
ish of  trumpets,  but  this  can  only  annoy  us.  What! 
Archduke  Charles  does  nothing,  Archduke  Ferdinand 
covers  himself  with  disgrace;  you  leave  Vienna  de- 
fenceless, as  much  as  to  say  God  is  on  our  side,  but  as 
for  you  and  your  capital  God  help  you!  then  you  let 
Schmidt  get  killed  —  a  general  beloved  by  us  —  and  you 
congratulate  yourselves  on  a  victory?  You  could  not 
invent  anything  more  aggravating  if  you  tried.  It  is  as 
if  you  had  done  it  on  purpose  —  on  purpose  !  —  Besides, 
even  if  you  had  really  achieved  a  brilliant  success, 
even  if  Archduke  Charles  could  do  the  same  on  his 
side,  would  that  make  any  difference  in  the  march  of 
events  ?  It  is  too  late  now ;  Vienna  is  occupied  by 
the  French." 

"  Occupied  !  Vienna  is  occupied?" 

"  Not  merely  occupied,  but  Bonaparte  is  at  Schoen- 
brunn,  and  our  amiable  friend  Count  Urbna  is  going 
there  to  take  his  orders." 

Partly  from  fatigue,  and  partly  from  the  confused 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  249 

impressions  left  on  his  mind  by  liis  journey  and  his  re- 
ception by  the  minister,  but  chiefly  from  the  effects  of 
his  dinner  Bolkonsky.  was  beginning  to  be  aware  that 
he  but  dimly  understood  the  gravity  of  this  news. 

"  Count  Lichtenfeld,  whom  I  saw  this  morning," 
Bihbine  went  on,  "showed  me  a  letter  containing  full 
<letails  of  a  review  of  the  French  troops  at  Vienna  with 
an  account  of  Prince  Murat  and  all  his  follow^ing.  You 
see  your  victory  is  nothing  much  to  boast  of,  and  you 
are  not  likely  to  be  hailed  as  a  deliverer." 

'As  far  as  I  am  concerned.  I  assure  you  I  do  not 
care  a  straw,"  said  Prince  Andre,  who  was  beginning 
to  understand  how  trivial  the  affair  of  Krems  was  in 
comparison  w'ith  such  an  event  as  the  occupation  of 
the  capital.  "What — Vienna  occupied!  And  what 
about  the  famous  tete-de-pont,  and  Prince  Auersperg 
who  was  charged  with  the  defence  of  Vienna  ?" 

"  Prince  Auersperg  is  on  this  side  of  the  river  to  de- 
fend us,  and  does  it  pretty  badly,  while  Vienna  is  on  the 
other  side.  As  to  the  bridge  it  has  not  been  taken  and  I 
hope  will  not  be.  It  is  undermined  and  is  to  be  blown 
up  in  case  of  need.  But  for  that  w-e  should  be  in  the 
wilds  of  Bohemia  by  this  time,  and  you  and  your  army 
would  have  a  hot  half-hour  between  two  fires." 

"But  this  does  not  mean,  after  all,  that  the  cam- 
paign is  at  an  end?"  said  Prince  Andre. 

"Well,  I  believe  it  is.  And  our  big-wigs  here  think 
the  same,  but  dare  not  say  so.  It  will  be  just  as  I  fore- 
told from  the  first  Your  skirmish  at  Diemstein  will 
not   settle   the    question!     No,    nor   gunpowder — but 


250 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


those  who  invented  gunpowder.  "This  was  one  of 
BiHbine's  sayings;  he  paused  over  it  for  a  second,  then, 
with  a  satisfied  look,  he  went  on:  "The  upshot  of  it  all 
depends  on  the  meeting  of  the  Czar  and  the  King  of 
Prussia  at  Berlin.  If  Prussia  joins  the  alliance  Aus- 
tria's hand  is  forced:  there  must  be  war;  if  not  there  is 
nothing  for  it,  they  have  only  to  fix  a  place  of  rendez- 
vous where  they  can  arrange  the  preliminaries  of  a 
second  Campo-Formio." 

"What  a  genius  he  is!  What  luck  he  has!"  ex- 
claimed Bolkonsky,  striking  the  table  with  his  fist. 

"Bonaparte?"  said  Bilibine,  knitting  his  brows — 
the  forerunner  of  a  witticism.  "  Buonaparte  !"  he  added, 
accenting  the  //.  "  But  it  strikes  me  that  now  he  sits  at 
Schoenbrunn  dictating  to  Austria  he  may  be  let  oif 
that  u\  I,  at  any  rate,  shall  drop  it  and  call  him  Bona- 
parte for  the  future." 

"But  come,  joking  apart,  do  you  really  think  the 
campaign  is  over?" 

"This  is  what  I  think:  Austria  for  once  has  been 
the  dupe  in  the  game;  this  she  is  not  used  to  and  she 
will  be  revenged.  She  has  been  the  dupe;  in  the  first 
place  her  provinces  are  ruined — orthodox  Russia  is,  as 
you  know,  the  very  devil  at  pillage — her  army  de- 
stroyed, and  her  capital  taken,  and  all  for  the  gratifica- 
tion of  the  King  of  Sardinia;  in  the  second  place,  my 
dear  fellow,  between  ourselves,  I  feel  instinctively  that 
we  are  being  taken  in.  There  is  a  scent  in  the  air  of 
treaties  and  peace  with  France — a  secret  peace,  sepa- 
rately agreed  on." 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  25 1 

"Impossible!  It  would  be  too  base!" 

"Those  who  live  will  learn,"  replied  Bilibine. 

Prince  Andre  went  to  bed,  a  room  had  been  made 
ready  for  him.  Once  stretched  between  the  fresh 
white  sheets,  with  his  head  on  downy  and  perfumed 
pillows  he  soon  felt,  in  spite  of  himself,  that  the  battle 
of  which  he  had  brought  the  news  was  swiftly  fading  to 
a  vague  remembrance.  He  could  think  of  nothing 
now  but  the  Prussian  alliance,  of  its  treachery  to  Aus- 
tria, of  Bonaparte's  latest  triumph,  of  the  review  on  the 
morrow,  and  of  his  own  reception  by  the  Emperor.  He 
closed  his  eyes,  but  instandy  the  roar  of  cannon,  mus- 
ketry, and  wheels  sounded  in  his  ears.  He  saw  files  of 
soldiers  coming  down  the  hill-sides,  he  heard  the 
French  firing,  he  was  there,  in  the  front  with  Schmidt 
by  his  side,  bullets  whistling  merrily  about  him;  and 
his  heart  thrilled  and  swelled  with  a  wild  exultation  in 
life,  such  as  he  had  never  felt  since  his  boyhood.  He 
woke  with  a  start. 

"Yes,  yes,  that  was  how  it  was!"  Then  he  went 
to  sleep  again  with  a  childlike  smile  and  slept  as  only 
youth  can  sleep. 

He  did  not  wake  till  late  next  morning,  and  col- 
lecting his  thoughts  he  remembered,  in  the  first  place, 
that  he  was  to  wait  on  the  Emperor  Francis;  all  the 
impressions  of  the  previous  evening — his  interview 
with  the  minister,  the  extravagant  poHteness  of  the 
aide-de-camp,  and  his  conversation  with  Bilibine 
crowded  into  his  mind.  He  put  on  full-dress  uniform, 
which  he  had  not  worn  for  a  long  time,  to  go  to  the 


252 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


palace  and  with  his  hand  in  a  sling,  in  the  best  possible 
spirits,  he  went  into  his  host's  sitting-room  where  sev- 
eral young  attaches  were  already  met,  and  among  them 
Hippolyte  Kouraguine,  secretary  now  to  the  Russian 
embassy,  who  was  known  to  Bolkonsky.  The  three 
others,  introduced  by  Bilibine,  were  young  men  of 
fashion,  rich,  well-dressed,  and  pleasure-loving,  who 
here,  as  at  Vienna,  formed  a  select  little  circle  of  which 
Bilibine  was  the  leader  and  of  whom  he  always  spoke 
as  "  Our  Set."  This  circle,  consisting  almost  exclusively 
of  diplomates,  had  other  interests  at  heart  besides  war 
and  politics.  The  doings  of  the  fashionable  world, 
their  intimacies  with  certain  ladies,  and  their  duties  in 
attendance  filled  up  all  their  leisure  hours.  These 
young  gentlemen  did  Prince  Andre  the  exceptional 
honor  of  receiving  him  eagerly,  and  as  one  of  them- 
selves; out  of  politeness  and  as  a  preliminary  they  con- 
descended to  ask  a  few  questions  with  regard  to  the 
army  and  the  battle,  after  which  they  went  on  with 
their  gay  and  discursive  talk,  brightened  by  light  sallies 
and  superficial  criticism. 

"And  this  is  the  crowning  detail!"  cried  one  of 
them  who  was  relating  the  discomfiture  of  a  colleague, 
*'  the  chancellor  actually  told  him  to  his  face  that  his 
transfer  to  London  was  promotion  and  that  he  ought 
to  regard  it  so.  Can  you  see  his  face  when  he  heard 
it?" 

"And  I,  gentlemen,  must  inform  against  Kouraguine, 
that  terrible  Don  Juan  who  will  profit  by  the  misfor- 
tunes of  others." 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  253 

Prince  Hippolyte  had  spread  himself  out  in  an  arm- 
chair with  his  legs  thrown  over  the  arms:  "Come, 
come!  What  are  you  talking  about!"  he  exclaimed 
laughing. 

Groans  of  "Oh,  Don  Juan!  Oh,  wily  serpent!" 
from  several  of  the  party. 

"  You  probably  are  not  aware,  Bolkonsky,"  Bilibine 
went  on,  "  that  all  the  atrocities  committed  by  the 
French  army  —  by  the  Russian  army  I  was  on  the 
point  of  saying — are  as  nothing  in  comparison  with 
the  ravages  committed  by  this  man  among  the  ladies 
here." 

"Woman  is  the  helpmeet  for  man,"  said  Prince 
Hippolyte,  looking  at  his  feet  through  his  eyeglass. 
Bilibine  and  the  "set"  went  into  fits  of  laughter;  and 
Prince  Andre  perceived  that  this  youth,  of  whom  he 
had,  it  must  be  owned,  so  nearly  been  jealous,  was  the 
butt  of  his  circle. 

"I  must  draw  out  this  Kouraguine  for  your  benefit," 
whispered  Bilibine.  "  He  is  delightful  when  he  dis- 
courses on  politics :  you  will  see  the  important 
manner  .  .  ."  and  turning  to  Hippolyte,  with  a  furrowed 
brow  he  began  a  discussion  on  the  events  of  the  day 
which  at  once  attracted  general  attention. 

"The  Berlin  cabinet  cannot  put  forward  any  idea 
of  an  alliance,"  Hippolyte  began,  looking  round  at  his 
audience  with  great  composure,  "  without  expressing, 
as  in  its  last  note,  you  know,  you  understand  .  .  .  And 
then,  if  his  Majesty  the  Emperor  maintains  his  principles 
our  alhance  .  .  .  stop,  I  have  not  done  .  . ."     He  seized 


254  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

Prince  Andre  by  the  hand —  "  I  fancy  that  intervention 
will  prove  stronger  than  non-intervention  and,  the  non- 
receipt  of  our  dispatch  of  the  28th  of  November  cannot 
be  charged  as  intentional;  that  is  how  it  will  all  end," 
and  he  released  Prince  Andre. 

"  Demosthenes,  I  know  thee  by  the  pebble  hidden 
in  thy  mouth  of  gold !  cried  Bilibine  who  had  shaken 
his  mane  of  hair  over  his  forehead,  as  it  seemed  to  give 
more  emphatic  expression  to  his  satisfaction.  Hippolyte 
laughed  louder  and  longer  than  any  of  them,  but  he 
did  not  appear  quite  comfortable  in  spite  of  this  forced 
laugh  which  distorted  his  generally  apathetic  counte- 
nance. 

"  Now,  gendemen,"  said  Bilibine,  "  Bolkonsky  is 
my  guest,  and  I  am  bent  on  his  enjoying  all  the  pleas- 
ures of"  Briinn  so  far  as  lies  in  my  power.  If  we  were 
at  Vienna  there  would  be  far  less  difficulty,  but  here,  in 
this  horrible  Moravian  hole,  I  claim  your  assistance; 
we  must  do  the  honors  of  Briinn.  If  you  will  under- 
take the  theatres  I  will  find  him  society.  As  for  you, 
Hippolyte,  you  are  best  qualified  in  the  matter  of  the 
fair  sex." 

"  He  must  be  introduced  to  the  bewitching  Amelia," 
said  one  of  the  "  set,"  and  he  kissed  the  tips  of  his 
fingers. 

"To  be  sure;  the  bloodthirsty  soldier  must  be 
taught  to  feel  some  human  sentiments,"  said  Bilibine. 

"Unfortunately,"  said  Bolkonsky,  "I  cannot  take 
advantage  of  your  kind  plans  on  my  behalf.  It  is  time 
for  me  to  go  out." 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  255 

"  Why,  where  are  you  going  ?" 

"  I  am  going  to  the  Emperor." 

"  Oh  !    indeed  —  then  good-bye  for  the  present." 

"Yes,  good-bye  for  the  present;  but  come  back 
and  dine  with  us  and  we  will  look  after  you." 

"  Listen  to  me,"  said  Bilibine  in  the  anteroom,  as 
he  went  to  see  Bolkonsky  out.  "In  speaking  to  the 
Emperor,  you  had  better  say  a  few  words  in  praise  of 
the  commissariat,  of  the  distribution  of  food  and  the  ar- 
rangement of  halting-places." 

"  I  could  not  even  if  I  wished  it,"  said  Bolkonsky. 

"Well,  at  any  rate  talk  for  both;  he  has  a  passion 
for  personal  receptions,  and  never  has  a  word  to  say,  as 
you  will  find  out." 

Prince  Andre  found  a  place  among  the  Austrian 
officers,  where  the  Emperor  was  to  pass,  and  aclrieved 
tlie  honor  of  attracting  his  notice  and  receiving  a  bow 
of  his  long  narrow  head.  The  ceremony  ended,  the 
aide-de-camp  he  had  seen  the  day  before  came  to  ex- 
press to  Bolkonsky  his  majesty's  wish  to  speak  with 
him.  The  Emperor  Francis  received  him  standing,  in 
his  private  room,  and  Prince  Andre  was  struck  by  his 
awkwardness;  he  blushed  and  hesitated  and  did  not 
seem  to  know  how  to  express  himself 

"Tell  me  at  what  hour  the  battle  began,"  he  said 
hurriedly,  and  Prince  Andre,  having  replied  to  this 
question,  was  immediately  required  to  answer  a  number 
of  others  no  less  childish. 

"  How  is  Koutouzow  ?  When  did  he  leave  Krems  ? 
— "  and  so  forth. 


256 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


The  Emperor's  sole  idea  seenied  to  be  to  ask  ques- 
tions; the  answers  did  not  interest  him. 

"What  o'clock  was  it  when  the  fighting  began  ?" 

"I  cannot  tell  your  Majesty  the  precise  time  when 
it  began  in  fi-ont,  for  I  was  at  Diernstein.  There  the 
first  collision  took  place  at  six  in  the  evening,"  said 
Bolkonsky  eagerly,  for  he  was  prepared  to  give  the  Em- 
peror an  exact  description  of  all  he  had  seen  and  heard. 

The  Emperor,  however,  interrupted  him  by  asking 
with  a  smile: 

"How  many  miles  is  it?" 

"From  whence  and  to  where,  Sire?" 

"  From  Diernstein  to  Krems." 

"Three  and  a  half,  Sire." 

"And  have  the  French  abandoned  the  left  bank?" 

"  According  to  the  reports  of  our  scouts  the  French 
all  crossed  on  rafts  that  same  night." 

"  Is  there  plenty  of  forage  at  Krems  ?" 

"  Not  enough  .  .  .  ." 

The  Emperor  again  interrupted  him.  "  At  what 
hour  was  General  Schmidt  killed  ?" 

"  It  must  have  been  about  seven." 

"  At  seven  ?     How  sad  —  how  very  sad  !" 

And  then,  thanking  him,  he  dismissed  him.  Prince 
Andre  retired  and  found  himself  immediately  sur- 
rounded by  courtiers.  Everyone  had  a  poHte  speech 
ready  and  he  was  the  centre  of  approving  glances;  the 
aide-de-camp  reproached  him  for  not  taking  up  his 
abode  at  the  palace  and  even  offered  him  his  own  rooms. 
The  minister  of  war  complimented  him  on  having  won 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  257 

the  order  of  Maria  Theresa,  of  the  3d  class,  which  his 
majesty  had  just  conferred  on  him;  the  Empress'  cham- 
berlain begged  him  to  visit  her  majesty :  the  grand 
duchess  also  wished  to  see  him  it  would  seem.  He 
did  not  know  what  to  say  and  stood  trying  to  collect  his 
ideas,  when  the  Russian  ambassador  touched  him  on 
the  shoulder  and  led  him  away  to  a  window  to  talk  to 
him. 

Notwithstanding  Bilibine's  evil  augury  the  news  of 
which  Bolkonsky  was  the  bearer  was  hailed  with  joy;  a 
Te  Deum  was  to  be  performed  by  command.  Koutou- 
zow  had  received  the  grand  cross  of  the  order  of  Maria 
Theresa,  and  all  the  army  was  rewarded.  Invitations, 
showered  in  on  Prince  Andre  who  was  obliged  to  de- 
vote his  whole  day  to  paying  visits  to  the  Austrian 
magnates. 

Having  fulfilled  this  duty  he  was  returning  to  Bili- 
bine's at  about  five  in  the  afternoon,  composing  in  his 
head,  as  he  went  along,  a  letter  which  he  intended 
sending  to  his  father  with  an  account  of  his  journey  to 
Brunn,  when  he  perceived  in  front  of  the  steps  a 
britzska  more  than  half  full  of  luggage  and  packages, 
while  Franz,  Bilibine's  servant,  was  struggling  to  cram 
in  another  trunk.  Prince  Andre  had  gone  into  a  book- 
seller's on  his  way  and  was  rather  late. 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  your  Excellency!"  cried  Franz.  "We  are 
moving  on  again:  the  villain  is  at  our  heels  once 
more." 

"But  what  on  earth  is  happening?"  repeated  Bol- 

V01. 1.  ij 


258  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

konsky,  just  as  Bilibine  came  out  to  meet  him;  his  face, 
though  always  calm,  betrayed  some  agitation. 

"This  is  a  pretty  business  this  crossing  of  the  bridge 
at  Thabor.  There  was  not  a  blow  struck!"  Prince 
Andre  did  not  understand. 

"Where  on  earth  have  you  come  from  that  you  do 
not  know  what  every  cab-driver  knows?" 

"I  have  come  last  from  the  grand-duke's  —  I  heard 
nothing  there." 

"And  have  you  not  seen  that  everyone  is  packing 
up?" 

"I  have  seen  nothing.  But  what  is  it  all  about 
after  all?"  he  added  impatiently. 

"What  is  it  about  ?  —  Why  the  French  have  crossed 
the  bridge  that  Auersperg  was  to  defend;  he  did  not 
blow  it  up;  Murat  is  coming  full  gallop  down  upon 
Briinn,  and  if  they  are  not  here  to-day  they  will  be  to- 
morrow." 

"  Here  !  —  but  if  the  bridge  was  mined  why  was  it 
not  blown  up  ?" 

"Why  indeed?  I  might  as  well  ask  you,  for  no 
one  will  ever  know,  not  even  Bonaparte  himself" 

Bolkonsky  shrugged  his  shoulders:  "But  if  they 
have  crossed  the  bridge  the  army  is  lost,  it  will  be  cut  off." 

"There  lies  the  hitch  .  .  .  Listen  to  the  facts:  The 
French  had  occupied  Vienna — very  good;  but  the 
next  day — that  is  to  say  yesterday  evening — Marshals 
Murat,    Lannes    and  Belliard*    set  out  on    horseback 

^  The  French  translator  points  out  a  mistake  here  on  the  part 
of  the  Russian  author  :  Belliard  was  never  a  marshal. 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  259 

to  reconnoitre  the  bridge.  Mark,  three  Gascons !  — 
'gentlemen/  says  one  of  them,  *  the  bridge,  as  you 
know,  is  mined  and  countermined,  it  is  guarded  by  that 
famous  tete-de-pont  of  which  we  have  heard  so  much, 
and  15,000  men  are  charged  to  fire  it  and  stop  our 
way ;  but,  as  it  would  suit  our  Emperor  and  master  far 
better  to  have  possession,  let  us  go,  us  three,  and  take 
possession  of  it.'  'Let  us  go,'  say  the  other  two.  So 
away  they  go ;  they  take  the  bridge,  they  cross  it  and 
all  the  army  cross  after  them  —  across  the  Danube, 
straight  down  on  us  and  on  you,  and  cut  off  our  com- 
munications." 

''  Do  not  jest,"  said  Prince  Andre,  "  the  subject  is  a 
grave  one,  and  a  sad  one." 

.  At  the  same  time,  in  spite  of  the  distress  he  ought 
to  have  felt  at  this  disastrous  news,  he  was  conscious  of 
a  secret  satisfaction.  Since  he  had  heard  of  the  des- 
perate situation  of  the  Russian  army  he  believed  himself 
destined  to  extricate  it :  this  was  to  be  his  Toulon ; 
this  would  distinguish  him  above  the  obscure  crowd  of 
his  fellow-soldiers  and  open  his  path  to  glory.  Even 
while  listening  to  Bilibine  he  pictured  himself  arriving 
at  the  camp,  giving  his  advice  at  the  council  of  war, 
and  suggesting  some  plan  —  the  only  plan  for  saving 
the  army.  Of  course  the  execution  would  be  entrusted 
to  him. 

"  I  am  not  jesting,"  said  Bilibine,  *'  nothing  could 
be  more  true  or  more  serious.  These  gentlemen  rode 
on  to  the  bridge  and  waved  their  white  handkerchiefs, 
they  asserted  that  an  armistice  had  been  agreed  to,  that 

17* 


26o  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

they  were  going  to  confer  with  Prince  Auersperg ;  — 
the  officer  on  guard  let  them  pass  into  the  outworks. 
They  crammed  him  with  no  end  of  rhodomontade :  the 
war  was  at  an  end,  the  Emperor  Francis  was  going  to 
receive  Bonaparte,  they  were  going  to  see  Prince  Auers- 
perg—  and  fifty  more  monstrous  lies.  The  officer 
sends  for  Auersperg.  The  Frenchmen  embrace  their 
enemies,  laugh  and  joke  with  them,  ride  a-cock-horse 
on  the  cannon,  and  meanwhile  a  French  battalion 
quietly  walks  across  the  bridge  and  throws  all  the  com- 
bustibles into  the  water  .  .  .  Then  —  at  last,  the  Heu- 
tenant-general,  our  dearly-beloved  Prince  Auersperg 
von  Nautern  appears  on  the  scene  :  '  Our  dear  enemy, 
the  flower  of  modern  soldiery,  Austrians,  heroes  of  the 
Turkish  campaigns,  a  truce  to  our  hostility ;  we  may 
now  shake  hands,  the  Emperor  Napoleon  is  dying  to 
make  the  acquaintance  of  Prince  Auersperg !'  In  short, 
these  gentlemen,  who  are  not  Gascons  for  nothing, 
threw  so  much  dust  in  his  eyes  with  their  fine  words, 
while  he,  on  his  part,  was  so  supremely  honored  by 
this  sudden  intimacy  with  the  French  marshals  and  so 
dazzled  by  Murat's  cloak  and  ostrich-feathers  that  he 
was  blinded  by  the  blaze,  and  quite  forgot  that  he 
ought  to  be  blazing  at  them."  And,  in  spite  of  the  ve- 
hemence of  his  narrative,  Bilibine  paused  that  Prince 
Andre  might  have  time  to  take  in  the  joke. 

"  The  French  soldiers  make  their  way  into  the  tete- 
de-J)o?it,  spike  the  guns,  and  the  bridge  is  theirs. —  But 
the  best  of  the  story  is  to  come,"  he  went  on,  trusting 
to  his  delight  in  telling  it  to  qualify  his   excitement. 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  26 1 

''  The  sergeant  in  charge  of  the  cannon  which  was  to 
give  the  signal  for  exploding  the  mine,  seeing  the 
French  approach,  was  on  the  point  of  firing  when 
Lannes  stopped  his  hand.  The  sergeant,  who  was 
sharper  than  his  master,  went  up  to  Auersperg  and 
said  :  '  Prince,  you  are  sold  —  the  French  are  down  on 
us  !'  —  or  to  that  effect.  Murat,  fearing  that  if  the  man 
said  anything  more  the  job  would  fall  through,  turned 
to  Auersperg,  like  the  Gascon  that  he  is,  and  pretended 
•to  be  surprised.  '  Is  this  your  boasted  Austrian  dis- 
cipline ?'  said  he.  '  What !  do  you  allow  an  inferior 
to  address  you  in  this  way  ?'  —  What  a  stroke  of 
genius !  —  Prince  Auersperg  who  piques  himself  on 
such  matters  had  the  sergeant  put  under  arrest. 

"  Don't  you  think  that  a  nice  story  altogether,  this 
taking  of  the  bridge  ?" 

"It  is  not  stupidity  nor  cowardice  —  but  treason 
perhaps!"  cried  Prince  Andre,  thinking  of  the  grey- 
coats, the  gunpowder  reek,  the  cannonade,  and  the 
glory  he  had  hoped  for. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  That  is  suspecting  the  Court  of 
too  dirty  a  job.  No,  it  is  neither  treason,  nor  stupidity, 
nor  cowardice ;  it  is  Ulm  over  again,  it  is  .  .  ."  he  paused 
for  a  word,  "  it  is  Mack  —  we  are  Macked,''  he  said, 
quite  pleased  at  having  hit  on  a  perfectly  new  word 
which  was  certain  to  be  repeated ;  his  brow  unbent  and 
he  contemplated  his  nails  with  a  smile  on  his  lips. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  he  asked  Prince  Andre. 

"  I  am  off." 

^'  Where  to  ?" 


262  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

"  Why,  to  join  the  army,  of  course." 
"  But  you  meant  to  stay  two  days  longer  ?" 
"  Impossible,  I  must  start  immediately." 
And  Bolkonsky  gave  his  orders  and  went  to  his  own 
room. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Bilibine  following  him, 
"  what  are  you  going  for  ?" 

Prince  Andre  looked  at  him  enquiringly  but  did  not 
answer. 

"  Yes,  I  say  what  are  you  going  for  ?     I  know,  you 
fancy  it  is  your  duty  to  join  the  army  now  that  it  is  in 
peril;  I  quite  understand;  it  is  heroic." 
"  Not  in  the  very  least." 

"  Yes,  you  are  a  philosopher  —  but  be  so  com- 
pletely. If  you  only  look  at  things  from  the  other  side 
you  will  see  that  your  first  duty,  on  the  contrary,  is  to 
keep  out  of  danger.  Let  those  who  are  good  for 
nothing  else  throw  themselves  into  the  gulf;  you  have 
had  no  orders  to  return,  and  we,  here,  will  not  let  you 
go.  You  may  as  well  remain  and  follow  us  whither 
our  miserable  fate  may  lead  us.  We  are  bound  for  01- 
miitz  they  say  —  it  is  a  pretty  town  and  we  shall  have  a 
pleasant  drive  there  in  my  carriage." 

"  For  God's  sake,  Bilibine,  cease  jesting." 
"  I  am  speaking  quite  seriously,  and  as  your  friend. 
Judge  for  yourself:  Why  should  you  go  when  you  can 
stop  here  ?  One  of  two  things  is  certain  :  either  peace 
will  be  concluded  before  you  can  reach  the  army,  or 
there  will  be  a  mad  stampede  and  you  will  share  the 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  263 

disgrace  of  Koutouzow's  army  .  .  .  ."  And  Bilibine 
looked  satisfied  that  the  dilemma  was  final. 

"  I  cannot  judge,"  said  Bolkonsky  coldly.  And  at 
the  bottom  of  his  heart  his  thought  was :  "  I  must  go 
to  save  the  army  !" 

"  My  dear  fellow,  you  are  a  hero !"  cried  Bilibine. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

After  taking  leave  of  the  minister  of  war  Bolkonsky 
set  out  that  night,  intending  to  join  the  army,  but  not 
knowing  where  to  find  it,  and  fearing  that  he  might  fall 
into  the  hands  of  the  French.  All  the  Court  was  pre- 
paring to  quit  Briinn,  and  the  heavy  baggage  was  al- 
ready forwarded  to  Olmiitz. 

On  reaching  the  neighborhood  of  Etzelsdorf  Prince 
Andre  unexpectedly  came  across  the  Russian  army  which 
was  retiring  in  great  haste  and  utter  disorder;  vehicles 
crowded  the  road  and  intercepted  the  progress  of  his 
chaise.  The  prince,  having  begged  a  horse  and  a  man 
from  the  captain  of  the  Cossacks,  though  he  was  tired 
and  almost  dying  of  hunger,  soon  outrode  the  baggage- 
wagons,  in  search  of  the  commander-in-chief.  Dismal 
reports  reached  his  ears  as  he  went  on  and  the  confusion 
all  round  him  only  too  surely  confirmed  them. 

"As  for  the  Russian  troops,  which  England's  gold 
has  tempted  from  the  ends  of  the  earth,  they  shall  meet 


264  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

the  same  fate,"  (the  fate  of  Ulm)  Napoleon  had  said  in 
his  general  orders  at  the  beginning  of  the  campaign. 
These  words  suddenly  recurred  to  Bolkonsky's  memory 
and  filled  him  with  admiration  for  the  man's  genius, 
mingled  with  a  sense  of  wounded  pride  across  which 
flashed  a  hope  of  imminent  revenge.  "  And  if  there  is 
nothing  left  but  to  die  ?"  thought  he.  ''  Well,  I  shall 
know  how  to  die,  and  no  worse  than  another,  if  I  must." 
He  looked  round  him  contemptuously  at  the  endless 
files  of  carts,  of  artillery,  getting  entangled  and  locked, 
and  further  back  more  and  still  more  carts  and  car- 
riages of  every  form,  trying  to  outstrip  each  other,  run- 
ning foul  of  each  other,  and  getting  in  each  other's  way 
as  they  toiled,  three  or  four  deep,  along  the  miry  road. 
In  front  and  behind,  as  far  as  the  ear  could  catch  a 
sound  there  was  a  rumbling  of  the  Avheels  of  vehicles 
and  gun-carriages,  the  tramp  of  horses,  the  shouts  of 
drivers  urging  on  their  teams,  and  the  oaths  of  the  sol- 
diers, of  servants  and  of  officers.  Lying  by  the  road 
were  the  carcasses  of  dead  horses,  some  of  them  flayed 
already,  and  broken-down  carts;  soldiers  of  every  de- 
scription poured  out  of  the  various  villages,  dragging 
sheep,  fowls,  hay,  and  sacks  crammed  to  the  brim ;  on 
every  slope,  up  or  down,  the  crowd  packed  closer,  and 
their  various  cries  mingled  in  an  incessant  roar.  Some 
soldiers,  up  to  the  knees  in  mud,  held  up  the  wheels 
of  the  gun-carriages  and  wagons ;  whips  whistled  and 
cracked,  horses  slipped,  harness  gave  way,  and  the 
shouting  seemed  enough  to  burst  the  men's  lungs. 
The  officers  superintending  the  march  rode  backwards 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  265 

and  forwards;  their  harassed  faces  betrayed  their  in- 
abihty  to  restore  order,  and  the  word  of  command  was 
lost  in  the  general  uproar  of  this  sea  of  humanity. 

"This  is  our  precious  orthodox  army!"  said  Bol- 
konsky  to  himself,  recalling  Bihbine's  words  as  he 
made  his  way  up  to  a  wagon  to  enquire  for  the  com- 
mander-in-chief. 

An  oddly-shaped  vehicle  drawn  by  one  horse,  a  sort 
of  cross  between  a  cart,  a  phaeton  and  a  gig,  evidently 
of  make-shift  construction  from  heterogeneous  materials, 
caught  his  eye.  It  was  a  little  way  behind  him,  driven 
by  a  soldier,  and  under  the  hood  and  leather  apron  a 
woman  could  be  seen  wrapped  in  a  heap  of  shawls. 
Just  as  he  was  about  to  make  his  enquiry  Pr"ice  Andre 
was  interrupted  by  this  woman's  shrieks  of  despair. 
The  officer  who  rode  at  the  head  of  this  file  of  vehicles 
was  beating  her  driver  for  trying  to  get  ahead  of  the 
others,  and  the  blows  of  his  whip  lashed  the  apron  of 
the  carriage.  Seeing  Prince  Andre  the  woman  put  out 
her  head  and  signing  to  him  energetically  with  her  hand 
she  called  out :  "  Monsieur  I'aide-de-camp,  pity,  mercy, 
defend  me,  protect  me  !  What  will  become  of  me  ?  I 
am  the  doctor's  wife,  the  doctor  of  the  7th  chasseurs  — 
and  they  will  not  let  us  go  on.  We  have  been  left  be- 
hind and  have  lost  our  party  !" 

"  Keep  back  or  I  will  thrash  you  as  flat  as  a  pan- 
cake," cried  the  officer,  fairly  in  a  rage.  "  Keep  back, 
you  and  your  hussy  !" 

"  Protect  me !  Monsieur  I'aide-de-camp.  What  are 
they  going  to  do  with  me  ?" 


266  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

"  Let  this  carriage  pass,  do  you  not  see  that  there  is 
a  woman  in  it  ?"  said  Andre  to  the  officer,  who  looked 
at  him  but  made  no  answer,  and  turned  to  the  soldier 
once  more. 

"  So  I  should  think,  let  you  pass  indeed !  Back  I 
say,  hound!" 

"  Let  him  pass,  I  tell  you,"  repeated  Prince  Andr6. 

"  And  who  are  you,  I  should  like  to  know,"  said 
the  officer  insolently.  ''  Are  you  the  master  here  ?  I 
am  master  here,  and  you,  do  you  hear  ?  —  you  there, 
go  back  I  say,  or  I  will  beat  you  as  flat  as  a  pan- 
cake ..."  the  expression  had  evidently  hit  his  fancy. 

"  Well  done,  the  little  aide-de-camp  !"  said  a  voice 
in  the  crowd. 

The  officer  had  reached  the  pitch  of  rage  when  a 
man  is  hardly  aware  of  his  actions  and  Prince  Andre 
felt  for  an  instant  that  his  interference  was  verging  on 
the  ridiculous  —  the  thing  that,  above  all  others  he 
dreaded;  but  his  instinct  suddenly  surging  up,  he  too 
felt  an  impulse  of  mad  rage ;  he  went  up  to  the  officer 
and  said  with  deliberate  emphasis : 

"  Have  the  goodness  to  make  way." 

The  officer  hastened  to  draw  back  though  with  an 
angry  gesture :  "  It  always  is  the  fault  of  the  staff-offi- 
cers; they  make  all  the  confusion  and  turmoil,"  he 
muttered.     "  Very  well,  go  your  own  way." 

Prince  Andre  also  made  haste ;  without  looking  at 
the  surgeon's  wife  —  who  called  him  her  deliverer,  but 
thinking  over  the  details  of  this  absurd  scene  he  can- 
tered   on   to   the  village  where,   as   he   was   told,   the 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  267 

commander-in-chief  was  to  be  found.  There  he  got  off 
his  horse  intending  to  get  something  to  eat,  and  to  rest 
a  Httle  while,  so  as  to  recover  from  the  painful  agitation 
of  his  mind  and  feelings.  *'  It  is  a  troop  of  banditti,  it  is 
not  an  army,"  he  was  saying  to  himself,  when  a  familiar 
voice  called  him  by  name.  He  turned  round,  and  at  a 
litde  window  perceived  Nesvitsky  who  was  munching 
something  and  gesticulating  energetically  : 

"  Bolkonsky,  don't  you  hear  me  ?  Come  here,  come 
quickly." 

He  went  into  the  house  where  he  found  Nesvitsky 
and  another  aide-de-camp  at  breakfast ;  they  hastened 
to  enquire,  with  much  alarm,  whether  he  had  brought 
any  news. 

"  Where  is  the  commander-in-chief?"  asked  Bol- 
konsky. 

*'  Here,  in  this  house,"  said  the  aide-de-camp. 

"  Well,  and  is  it  true  about  the  peace  and  capitula- 
tion ?"  asked  Nesvitsky. 

"  You  must  tell  me  that,  I  know  nothing  about  it. 
I  have  had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  joining  you." 

**0h!  my  dear  fellow,  what  is  going  on  is  absolutely 
frightful  —  I  cry  mea  culpa  —  we  laughed  at  Mack,  but 
our  plight  is  worse  than  his.  Sit  down  and  eat  some 
breakfast,"  added  Nesvitsky. 

. "  It  is  quite  impossible,  Prince,  that  you  should  now 
be  able  to  discover  your  baggage-wagon  and  effects,  as 
to  your  man  Pierre,  God  knows  what  has  become  of 
him !" 

"  Where  then  are  the  headquarters  ?" 


268  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

"  We  are  to  sleep  at  Znaim." 

"  I,"  said  Nesvitsky,  "  have  loaded  two  horses  with 
everything  I  most  needed  and  have  had  capital  pack- 
saddles  made  which  will  stand  even  a  journey  in  the 
mountain  roads  of  Bohemia.  —  It  is  a  bad  business,  my 
good  friend.  —  Are  you  ill?  You  are  shivering  I 
fancy." 

"  No,  there  is  nothing  the  matter  with  me,"  replied 
Prince  Andre.  At  that  moment  he  recalled  his  meet- 
ing with  the  surgeon's  wife  and  the  officer  in  command 
of  the  train.  "  And  what  is  the  commander-in-chief 
doing  here  ?" 

*'  I  have  no  idea,"  replied  Nesvitsky. 

"  And  I  have  only  one ;  which  is  that  the  whole 
business  is  deplorable,"  said  Prince  Andr^. 

He  went  to  see  Koutouzow ;  as  he  went  he  noticed 
his  carriage  and  the  horses  of  his  staff,  tired  out,  and 
dead  beat,  surrounded  by  servants  and  Cossacks  all 
talking  at  the  top  of  their  voices.  Koutouzow  was 
sitting  with  Bagration  and  Weirother,  the  Austrian  gen- 
eral who  now  filled  Schmidt's  place.  In  the  hall  little 
Koslovsky,  looking  wan  from  late  hours,  was  sitting 
on  his  heels  and  dictating  some  instructions  to  a  secre- 
tary who  hastily  wrote  them  down,  using  a  tub  for  a 
table.  Koslovsky  glanced  up  at  the  new-comer  but 
could  not  spare  time  to  bow. 

"  Next  line  —  have  you  written  ?  —  The  regiment  of 
Kiew  grenadiers;  the  regiment  of.  .  .  ." 

"  Impossible  to  keep  up  with  Your  Highness,"  said 
the  secretary  in  a  cross  tone. 


WAR   AND   PEACE.  269 

At  this  moment  the  eager  and  dissatisfied  voice  of  the 
commander-in-chief  was  audible  through  the  dooi;  an- 
swered by  another  which  was  quite  unknown  to  Bol- 
konsky.  The  noisiness  of  the  discussion,  Koslovsky's 
indifference,  the  incivihty  of  the  weary  amanuensis, 
evidently  quite  exhausted,  this  strange  scene  with 
the  tub  for  a  writing-table  close  to  the  commander-in- 
chief,  the  uproarious  laughter  of  the  Cossacks  just  out- 
side the  window  —  all  these  details  forced  upon  Prince 
Andre's  mind  the  reahty  of  some  grave  disaster.  He 
besieged  the  aide-de-camp  with  questions. 

"  Directly,  Prince,"  said  the  officer,  "Bagratioh  is  in 
command  of  the  troops." 

"  And  the  capitulation  ?" 

"  There  is  none  ;  we  are  preparing  for  battle." 

Just  as  Prince  Andre  was  about  to  enter  the  adjoin- 
ing room  Koutouzow,  with  his  aquiline  nose  and  burly 
figure,  appeared  at  the  door.  Prince  Andre  was  in 
front  of  him  but  the  commander-in-chief  looked  at  him 
without  recognition;  the  vague  expression  of  his  one 
eye  showed  that  he  was  so  absorbed  by  anxiety  and 
worry  as  to  be  totally  absent  minded  as  to  the  outer 
world  around  him.    "  Is  it  done  ?"  he  asked  Koslovsky. 

"  In  a  moment.  Your  Excellency." 

Bagration  had  followed  the  commander-in-chief;  he 
was  a  small,  wiry  man,  still  young,  and  his  face,  which 
was  Oriental  in  character,  commanded  notice  by  its 
calm  and  firm  expression. 

"  Your  Excellency.  ..."  and  Prince  Andre  held  out 
a  packet  to  Koutouzow. 


:>  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

"Ah!  from  Vienna;  very  good.  .  .  ."  He  left  the 
room  with  Bagration ;  and  they  went  out  and  stood  on 
the  steps. 

"  Good-bye  then,  Prince/'  he  said  to  Bagration. 
"  May  the  Lord  have  you  in  his  keeping.  Take  my 
blessing  on  this  great  enterprise  !" 

His  voice  broke  and  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  He 
drew  Bagration  to  him  with  his  left  hand,  while  with 
his  right  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  on  his  forehead — 
a  gesture  he  was  wont  to  make  use  of;  then  he  offered 
him  his  cheek,  but  Bagration  threw  his  arms  round  his 
neck. 

'*  The  Lord  be  with  you !"  said  Koutouzow,  and  he 
got  into  his  carriage.  "  Come  with  me,"  he  added  to 
Bolkonsky. 

*'  Your  Excellency,  I  could  wish  to  be  of  use  here. — 
If  you  would  allow  me  to  remain  under  the  orders  of 
Prince  Bagration.  .  .  ." 

"  Get  in,"  said  Koutouzow,  seeing  his  hesitancy.  "  I, 
too,  want  good  officers.  —  If  the  tenth  part  of  his 
division  comes  back  to-morrow  evening  we  may  thank 
God !"  he  added,  as  if  speaking  to  himself 

Prince  Andre  involuntarily  looked  round  for  a 
moment  at  Koutouzow's  sightless  eye  and  the  scar  on 
his  temple,  a  double  memorial  of  a  Turkish  bullet. 

"  Aye,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  he  has  a  right  to  talk  so 
coolly  of  the  death  of  so  many  men." 

"  That  is  the  reason,"  he  said  aloud,  "  why  I  begged 
you  to  send  me  with  them." 

Koutouzow  made  no  reply ;  he  sat  sunk  in  thought 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  27 1 

and  seemed  to  have  forgotten  what  he  had  just  said. 
Cradled  on  the  cushions  of  his  carriage  in  a  minute  he 
turned  to  Prince  Andre  a  passive  face  in  which  it  would 
have  been  vain  to  look  for  any  trace  of  emotion,  and 
with  a  great  deal  of  subtle  irony  he  incited  Bolkonsky 
to  tell  him  the  history  of  his  interview  with  the  Em- 
peror, the  gossip  of  the  Court  as  to  the  fight  at  Krems, 
and  even  questioned  him  about  some  ladies  with  whom 
they  were  both  acquainted. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

On  the  first  of  November  Koutouzow  had  received 
information  from  one  of  his  spies  which  led  him  to  be- 
lieve that  his  army  was  in  a  position  of  almost  check- 
mate. The  French,  said  this  reporter,  after  crossing 
the  bridge  were  marching  on  in  considerable  strength 
to  intercept  his  junction  with  the  reinforcements  coming 
from  Russia.  If  Koutouzow  decided  on  remaining 
at  Krems  Napoleon's  150,000  men  would  cut  off 
his  communications  by  surrounding  his  exhausted 
force  of  about  40,000,  and  he  would  be  in  the  same 
predicament  as  Mack  at  Ulm;  if,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
abandoned  his  hold  on  the  main  road  of  communica- 
tion with  Russia,  his  only  resource  was  to  retreat,  con- 
stantly defending  his  rear,  into  the  barren  and  unknown 
highlands  of  Bohemia,  giving  up  all  hope  of  effecting  a 


272 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


junction  with  Bouksevden.  If,  finally,  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  fall  back  from  Krems  on  Olmiitz  and  meet  the 
reinforcements,  he  ran  the  risk  of  being  intercepted  by 
the  French  and  forced  to  fight  in  the  middle  of  his 
march,  with  all  his  baggage  at  his  heels,  against  an 
enemy  three  times  as  strong,  who  could  attack  him  on 
both  flanks.  This,  however,  was  the  alternative  he  ac- 
cepted. He  now  heard  that  the  French  were  making 
forced  marches  towards  Znaim  across  his  line  of  retreat 
but  about  a  hundred  versts  (or  about  66  miles*)  ahead 
of  him.  To  be  outstripped  by  them  was,  for  the  Rus- 
sians, the  disgrace  of  Ulm,  and  the  total  loss  of  the 
army;  their  only  hope  of  salvation  was  to  reach  Znaim 
first,  and  it  was  impossible  to  do  this  with  a  mass  of 
40,000  men;  the  road  from  Vienna  to  Znaim  was 
better  and  less  circuitous  than  that  Koutouzow  had  be- 
fore liim  from  Krems. 

On  hearing  this  news  he  had  sent  off  Bagration 
across  the  hills  with  the  vanguard  of  4,000  men  to  oc- 
cupy the  road  from  Vienna  to  Znaim.  Bagration  was 
charged  to  effect  this  without  a  halt,  and  place  himself 
with  Vienna  in  front  of  him  and  Znaim  behind;  and  if 
his  good  star  prevailed  and  he  reached  the  spot  first  he 
was  to  delay  the  enemy  as  long  as  he  could,  while 
Koutouzow  and  the  main  force  made  their  way  to 
Znaim.  Bagration  having  marched  over  thirty  miles  of 
mountainous  country,  devoid  of  roads,  through  a  dark 
and  stormy  night,  losing  a  third  of  his  men  in  stragglers, 
brought  out  his  famished  and  ill-shod  army  at  HoUa- 

*  A  verst  is  3500  feet,  about  %  of  a  mile. 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  273 

briinn,  between  Vienna  and  Znaim,  some  few  hours  be- 
fore the  French  had  reached  the  spot. 

To  give  Koutouzow  the  twenty-four  hours  start 
which  he  needed  to  achieve  his  purpose  these  4,000 
men,  worn  out  with  fatigue,  were  to  keep  the  enemy 
busy  and  so  save  the  army — it  was  impossible.  But 
capricious  Fortune  made  the  impossible  possible.  The 
success  of  the  trick  by  which  the  French  had  taken 
possession  of  the  bridge  at  Vienna  without  drawing 
swords  suggested  to  Murat  the  idea  of  attempting  a 
similar  stroke  with  Koutouzow.  When  he  met  Bagra- 
tion  with  his  slender  force  he  fancied  that  the  whole 
Russian  army  was  behind  them,  and  being  certain  of 
crushing  it  as  soon  as  his  reinforcements  should  come 
up  he  proposed  an  armistice  for  three  days,  during 
which  both  parties  were  to  remain  where  they  were. 
To  make  quite  sure  of  its  acceptance  he  asserted  that 
prehminaries  of  peace  were  certainly  under  discussion, 
and  that  it  was  useless  to  shed  blood.  General  Nos- 
titz,  an  Austrian,  who  held  the  advanced  posts,  took 
his  word  for  it  and,  by  retiring,  left  Bagration  exposed. 
Another  emissary  carried  the  same  false  assurances  to 
the  Russian  camp.  Bagration,  however,  replied  that 
he  could  neither  accept  nor  refuse  any  terms,  that  he 
must  refer  everything  to  his  commander-in-chief  to 
whom  he  would  send  an  aide-de-camp. 

This  proposal  was  the  salvation  of  the  army;  Kou- 
touzow at  once  despatched  his  aide-de-camp,  Wintzen- 
gerode,  to  the  enemy,  charged,  not  merely  to  accept  the 
armistice,  but  to  discuss  the  terms  of  a  capitulation. 

Vol.  I.  18 


274  WAR  AND    PEACE. 

At  the  same  time  he  sent  off  instructions  to  the  rear  to 
hurry  on  the  army,  of  whose  movements  the  French 
were  not  aware  as  it  was  screened  by  Bagration's  Uttle 
force  which  held  its  position  unflinchingly  in  the  face 
of  eight  times  its  own  numbers.  Koutouzow's  antici- 
l^ations  were  justified;  his  proposals  bound  him '  to 
nothing,  but  gained  him  precious  time;  Murat's  blunder 
could  not  fail  to  become  evident.  When  Bonaparte — 
who  was  still  at  Schoenbriinn,  about  i6  miles  from 
Hollabriinn — received  Murat's  despatch  reporting  the 
proposals  for  an  armistice  and  a  capitulation,  he  saw  at 
once  that  the  marshal  had  been  duped  and  he  wrote  to 
him  as  follows: 

"To  Prince  Murat. 

**  Schoenbri'm7i,  25  Brumaire,  (r6  Nov.)  1805. 
[8  in  the  morning.] 

**  I  cannot  possibly  find  words  to  express  my  vexation. 
You  command  only  the  van  and  have  no  right  to  pro- 
pose an  armistice  without  my  orders.  You  have  made 
me  lose  the  advantages  of  a  whole  campaign.  Break 
the  armistice  at  once,  and  march  on  the  enemy.  Have 
it  explained  to  him  that  the  general  who  signed  the 
capitulation  had  no  right  to  do  so,  that  no  one  has  the 
right  but  the  Emperor  of  Russia. 

*'  If,  after  all,  the  Emperor  of  Russia  sfiould  sign  tlie 
agreement  I  would  ratify  it,  but  it  is  simply  a  trick. 
March  in  and  destroy  the  Russian  army. —  You  are  in  a 
position  to  secure  its  baggage  and  artillery. 

"The  Russian  aide-de-camp  is  a  .  ,  .  officers  count 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  275 

for  nothing  when  they  have  no  powers,  and  this  one 
had  none.  The  Austrians  were  duped  about  the 
bridge  at  Vienna,  but  you  have  been  duped  by  a  Rus- 
sian aide-de-camp. 

Napoleon." 

The  aide-de-camp  who  acted  as  courier  with  this 
fulminating  letter  rode  like  mad.  Napoleon  himself, 
fearing  lest  his  easy  prey  should  escape  him,  came  up 
with  all  his  guards  to  give  battle,  while  Bagration's 
4,000  men  were  contentedly  lighting  their  fires,  and. 
warming  and  drying  themselves  for  the  first  time  in 
three  days;  cooking  their  porridge,  and  not  one  of 
them  dreaming  of  the  storm  that  was  about  to  over- 
whelm them. 

Napoleon's  aide-de-camp  had  not  yet  reached 
Murat  when  Prince  Andre,  having  extracted  the  per- 
mission he  desired  from  Koutouzow,  reached  Grounth, 
where  he  found  Bagration,  at  about  four  in  the  after- 
noon. No  one  there  knew  anything  about  the  pro- 
gress of  affairs  outside ;  they  talked  of  peace  without 
believing  in  it,  and  of  a  battle,  but  with  no  idea  that  it 
was  imminent.  Bagration  welcomed  Koutouzow's 
favorite  aide-de-camp  with  every  mark  of  distinction 
and  kindness ;  he  told  him  that  they  were  certain  to 
come  to  blows  ere  long,  and  offered  him  the  choice  of 
attaching  himself  to  the  Commander's  immediate  fol- 
lowing during  the  action,  or  of  superintending  the  re- 
treat of  the  rear,  which  was  quite  equally  important. 

"  At  the  same  time  I  do  not  expect  an  engagement 


276 


WAR   AND   PEACE. 


to-day,"  he  added,  as  if  to  set  Prince  Andre's  mind  at 
ease  while  he  said  to  himself:  "  If  he  is  only  a  young 
puppy  sent  to  the  front  to  win  a  medal  he  will  do  that 
just  as  well  by  keeping  in  the  rear,  but  if  he  chooses  to 
stick  by  me,  so  much  the  better;  a  brave  officer  is 
never  one  too  many." 

Prince  Andre  gave  no  answer  to  either  proposal  but 
begged  Bagration's  permission  to  go  over  the  ground 
and  see  how  the  troops  were  placed  that  he  might 
know  where  he  was  in  case  of  need.  The  officer  on 
duty  with  the  detachment,  a  handsome  and  remarkably 
elegant  man  with  a  large  diamond  on  his  forefinger, 
who  spoke  French  readily  but  very  badly,  offered  to 
guide  him. 

On  all  sides  they  saw  officers,  drenched  to  the  skin, 
all  searching  for  something,  and  soldiers  dragging 
doors,  palisades  and  benches. 

**  You  see,  Prince,  we  cannot  succeed  in  getting  rid 
of  fellows  like  those,"  said  the  officer  pointing  to  them 
and  then  to  a  vivandiere's  canteen.  "  The  command- 
ing officers  are  so  weak;  they  allow  them  to  collect 
here  —  I  drove  them  all  away  this  morning  and  the 
place  is  full  again.  One  moment,  excuse  me,  and  I 
will  clear  them  out." 

"  Let  us  go  in,"  said  Bolkonsky,  "  and  I  will  get  a 
bit  of  bread  and  cheese,  I  have  had  no  time  to  eat." 

"  If  you  had  told  me  I  would  have  offered  you  a 
share  of  my  bread  and  salt." 

They  dismounted  and   went  into   the  vivandiere's 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  277 

tent  where  a  party  of  officers,  looking  weary  but  excited, 
were  eating  and  drinking. 

"  For  God's  sake,  gentlemen !"  said  Bolkonsky's 
companion,  in  a  tone  of  emphatic  reproof  which  showed 
tliat  it  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  spoken,  "  you 
know  that  the  Prince  has  forbidden  your  leaving  your 
posts  and  assembling  here  .  .  ."  He  turned  to  an 
artillery  officer  —  a  little  man,  very  lean  and  slovenly, 
who  had  risen  at  their  entrance  with  an  awkward  smile, 
having  taken  off  his  boots  for  the  woman  to  get  them 
dried.  "  You,  too,  Captain  Tonschine  !  Are  you  not 
ashamed  of  yourself?  As  an  artillery  officer  you  ought 
to  set  an  example,  and  here  you  are  with  no  boots ;  if 
the  alarm  should  be  sounded  a  pretty  figure  you  would 
cut,  barefoot.  Come,  gentlemen,  you  will  have  the 
goodness  to  return  to  your  posts,"  he  added  in  a  tone 
of  command. 

Prince  Andre  could  not  help  smiling  as  he  looked 
at  Tonschine  who  stood  silent  and  smiling,  and  lifting 
first  one  foot  and  then  the  other  while  his  genial  and 
intelligent  eyes  looked  from  one  to  another. 

*'  The  men  say  that  it  is  more  comfortable  to  go 
barefoot,"  replied  Tonschine  humbly,  trying  to  get  out 
of  his  scrape  by  a  laugh,  but  finding  his  sally  ill- 
received  he  looked  uncomfortable. 

"  Back  to  your  posts,  gentlemen,"  repeated  the 
staff-officer,  doing  all  he  could  to  keep  his  counte- 
nance. 

Prince  Andre  cast  a  parting  glance  at  the  artillery- 
man  whose    comical   individuality   was    of  a   peculiar 


278  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

type — anything  rather  than  military,  but  curiously 
attractive. 

Once  outside  the  village,  after  passing  and  meeting 
soldiers  and  officers  of  every  class  they  saw  on  their  left 
the  entrenchments  —  earth-works  of  red  clay  —  which 
the  men  were  still  busied  in  throwing  up.  Some  bat- 
talions, in  shirt  sleeves  in  spite  of  a  bitter  north  wind, 
were  working  like  a  swarm  of  ants.  Having  inspected 
these  they  galloped  on  and  up  the  opposite  slope. 
From  the  rising  ground  they  could  see  the  French. 

"  That  is  our  battery  over  there,  under  our  queer 
barefoot  friend;  we  will  go  there,  Prince,  it  is  our 
highest  point  and  we  shall  see  better." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  but  I  can  find  my  way  alone," 
said  Prince  Andre,  to  be  rid  of  his  escort  "  Do  not 
trouble  yourself  any  further  I  beg  .  .  .  ."  And  they 
parted. 

At  between  six  and  seven  miles  from  the  French 
camp,  on  the  road  from  Znaim  which  Bolkonsky  had 
ridden  over  that  morning,  a  scene  of  indescribable  con- 
fusion was  going  on,  and  at  Grounth  the  air  seemed 
full  of  anxiety  and  unusual  excitement ;  but  here,  much 
closer  to  the  foe,  he  was  glad  to  see  the  good  order  and 
confident  feeling  that  prevailed.  The  soldiers,  each  in 
his  grey  capote,  stood  in  well-formed  ranks  before  the 
captain  and  sergeant-major  who  were  counting  the  men, 
laying  a  finger  on  each  man's  breast  and  making  the 
last  man  of  each  little  division  hold  up  his  hand.  Some, 
who  had  been  told  off  to  fetch  wood  and  brushwood  to 
build  huts,   were   laughing   and   chatting;  groups  had 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  279 

gathered  round  the  fires  —  some  dressed  while  some 
were  half-stripped,  drying  their  shirts,  mending  their 
boots  or  their  coats,  squatting  round  the  kettles  and 
the  cooks.  In  one  company  the  stew  was  ready  and 
the  eager  men  watched  the  steam  with  greedy  eyes, 
while  a  sergeant  carried  a  basin-full  to  be  tasted  by  the 
officer  who  sat  on  a  log  in  front  of  his  shanty. 

The  men  of  another  and  a  luckier  company  —  for 
they  had  not  all  a  store  of  brandy — stood  crowding 
round  their  sergeant,  a  broad-shouldered  fellow  marked 
with  the  small-pox,  who  poured  for  each  a  dram  into 
the  lid  of  his  can,  tilting  his  little  barrel.  The  soldiers 
lifted  it  reverently  to  their  lips,  rolled  it  round  in  their 
mouths,  wiped  their  lips  on  their  sleeves  and,  after 
covering  their  cans  again,  went  off  in  the  best  temper 
and  spirits.  They  were  all  so  cool  that  it  was  difficult 
to  believe  that  the  enemy  was  close  by.  They  seemed 
to  be  resting  in  a  quiet  halting-place  in  their  own 
country  rather  than  on  the  eve  of  a  struggle  in  which 
half  of  them  perhaps  would  be  left  on  the  field.  Prince 
Andre  rode  past  the  regiment  oi  chasseurs  and  came  to 
the  serried  ranks  of  the  Kiew  grenadiers ;  these, 
though  they  had  all  their  habitual  martial  neatness, 
were  as  peacefully  employed  as  the  rest;  but  he  ob- 
served at  a  short  distance  from  the  taller  hut  of  the 
officer  in  command,  a  knot  of  soldiers  standing  by  a 
man  who  was  stretched  naked  on  the  ground.  Two 
held  him  down,  two  others  whipped  him  on  the  back 
in  regular  time  with  thin,  elastic  canes.  The  victim 
cried  out  piteously,  but  a  burly  major,  marching  up  and 


28o  WAR    AND   PEACE. 

down  in  front  of  the  detachment,  took  no  heed  of  his 
howUng  and  only  said  again  and  again  :  "  It  is  a  dis- 
grace to  a  soldier  to  steal,  a  soldier  must  be  honest  and 
brave :  if  he  robs  his  comrades  it  shows  that  he  has  no 
sense  of  honor,  that  he  is  a  mean  wretch —  Go  on !  go 
on !  .  .  ."  And  the  switching  and  the  howling  con- 
tinued. 

A  young  officer  who  had  just  turned  away  his  face, 
betraying  some  involuntary  compassion,  looked  up  in 
surprise  at  the  aide-de-camp  as  he  rode  by. 

Prince  Andre  having  reached  the  outposts  inspected 
the  position  with  care.  The  enemy's  sharp-shooters 
were  parted  from  the  Russians  by  a  considerable  space 
at  each  end  of  the  line,  but  in  the  middle,  where  the 
envoys  had  crossed  in  the  morning,  they  were  so  near 
each  other  that  the  men  could  see  each  other's  faces 
and  exchange  speech.  Several  inquisitive  natives  had 
mingled  with  the  soldiers  to  examine  this  unknown  and 
foreign  foe,  and  though  they  were  bidden  again  and 
again  to  quit  the  spot  they  remained  as  if  nailed  to  it. 
The  Russians  were  very  soon  tired  of  the  amusement ; 
they  did  not  look  at  the  French  but  passed  their  time 
when  on  duty  in  cutting  jokes  on  the  new-comers. 

Bolkonsky  pulled  up  to  study  the  enemy. 

"  Look,  look !"  cried  one  sentry  to  another,  pointing 
to  a  third  who  had  gone  forward  beyond  the  line  and 
was  carrying  on  a  lively  conversation  with  a  French 
grenadier  —  "just  see  how  he  gabbles  it  out;  the 
Frenchman  cannot  get  a  word  in." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  that,  Siderow  ?" 


WAR    AND   PEACE.  28 1 

"  Stop  —  let  me  listen.  —  The  devil !  how  he  goes  at 
it !"  said  Siderow,  who  was  supposed  to  speak  French 
well. 

The  soldier  they  were  admiring  was  Dologhow;  he 
and  his  captain  had  come  up  from  the  left  flank  where 
their  regiment  was. 

"  Bravo,  encore !"  said  the  captain,  leaning  forward 
and  trying  not  to  lose  a  word  though  it  was  all  per- 
fectly unintelHgible  to  him.  —  "  Go  on,  talk  faster !  . .  . . 
What  does  he  want  ?" 

Dologhow,  who  had  plunged  into  a  hot  discussion, 
made  no  reply.  They  were  talking  of  the  campaign : 
the  Frenchman,  mixing  up  the  Russians  with  the 
Austrians,  maintained  that  they  had  surrendered  and 
abandoned  Ulm,  while  Dologhow  tried  to  prove  to  him 
that  the  Russians  had  beaten  the  French  and  had  not- 
given  in :  "  And  if  we  are  told  to  clear  you  away  from 
here  we  will  do  it,"  he  added. 

"  You  had  better  take  care  that  when  we  go  we  do 
not  take  you  with  us,  you  and  all  your  Cossacks," 
retorted  the  Frenchman,  and  his  audience  laughed. 

"  We  will  make  you  jump,  as  Souvorow  did,"  an- 
swered Dologhow. 

"  What  nonsense  is  he  talking  ?"  asked  a  Frenchman. 

"Ancient  history  !"  sneered  another,  perceiving  that 
the  reference  was  to  a  past  war. 

"Our  Emperor  will  teach  you  Sou  vara  as  he  has 
taught  others.  ..." 

"  What,  Bonaparte  ?"  said  Dologhow,  but  the  ex- 
cited Frenchman  interrupted  him. 


282  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

"  There  is  no  Bonaparte  —  there  is  the  Emperor, 
sacre  nam  /" 

"  Go  to  the  devil  with  your  Emperor.  .  .  ."  And 
Dologhow,  swearing  soldiers'  oaths  in  Russian,  hoisted 
his  gun  on  to  his  shoulder  and  walked  away  saying  to 
his  captain : 

"  Come  along,  Ivan  Loukitch." 

"  So  much  for  his  French  !"  said  the  soldiers  laugh- 
ing.    "  Now,  Siderow,  it  is  your  turn." 

Siderow,  with  a  sly  wink  addressed  the  Frenchmen^ 
pouring  forth  a  torrent  of  gibberish :  "  cari,  7nata  tafa^ 
safi,  murter^  casca^^*  trying  to  throw  great  expression  into 
his  voice.  A  Homeric  roar  rose  up,  such  a  jolly, 
hearty  laugh  that  the  French  caught  the  infection.  A 
looker-on  might  have  supposed  that  there  was  nothing 
more  to  do  but  to  fire  the  guns  in  the  air  and  go  home ; 
but  the  guns  were  not  discharged,  the  loop-holes  in  the 
houses  and  the  outworks  looked  as  sinister  as  ever,  and 
the  cannons  placed  in  position  and  pointing  at  the 
enemy  did  not  stir  from  their  ominous  guard. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

After  riding  along  the  front  to  the  left  flank  Bol- 
konsky  went  up  to  the  battery  whence,  as  the  staff-offi- 
cer had  told  him,  he  could  get  a  view  of  the  whole 
ground.   He  got  off  his  horse  and  stood  at  the  end  of  the 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  285 

battery  close  to  the  fourth  and  last  piece.  The  man  on 
guard  was  going  to  present  arms,  but  the  aide-de-camp 
gave  him  a  negative  sign,  and  he  resumed  his  regular 
walk.  Behind  the  guns  were  the  gun-carriages,  and 
farther  off  the  horses  were  picketed  and  the  bivouac 
fires  were  blazing.  To  the  left  at  a  short  distance,  a  Httle 
hut  had  been  constructed  of  wattles,  within  which  the 
eager  voices  of  several  officers  could  be  heard. 

He  could,  in  fact,  survey  from  this  battery  almost 
all  the  Russian  troops  and  the  larger  part  of  the  en- 
emy's. On  a  hill  in  front  of  him  the  village  of  Schon- 
graben  stood  out  against  the  sky ;  to  the  right  and  left, 
in  three  separate  divisions,  the  French  could  be  seen  in 
the  midst  of  their  reeking  fires,  but  the  greater  portion 
were  collected  in  the  village  and  behind  the  hill.  Ta 
the  left  of  the  houses,  through  clouds  of  smoke,  a  dark 
mass  was  discernible,  which  might  be  a  battery  but 
which  was  quite  indistinct  to  the  naked  eye.  The  Rus- 
sian right  lay  distributed  over  a  moderately  high  ridge^ 
commanding  the  enemy  and  held  by  the  infantry  and 
dragoons  who  could  be  clearly  made  out  along  the  top. 
From  the  centre,  occupied  by  Tonschine's  battery  and 
where  Prince  Andre  was  now  standing,  a  road  down  an 
easy  slope,  led  straight  to  the  stream  which  divided  the 
Russian  position  from  Schongraben.  On  their  left  wing 
the  Russians  occupied  the  ground  to  the  skirt  of  the 
forest,  and  the  trees  at  the  edge  of  it  were  lighted  up  in 
the  distance  by  the  fires  made  by  the  infantry.  The 
enemy's  front  was  the  more  extensive  and  it  was  very 
evident  that  he  could  turn  the  Russians  on  both  flanks, 


284  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

while  a  ravine  ending  in  a  precipitous  gully  made  any 
retreat  difficult  for  cavalry  and  artillery.  Prince  Andre, 
leaning  against  a  cannon,  hastily  sketched,  on  a  scrap 
of  paper  torn  from  his  note-book,  the  position  of  the 
troops,  specially  noting  two  points  to  which  he  intended 
to  direct  Bagration's  attention:  in  the  first  place  the 
concentration  of  all  the  artillery  in  the  centre  and  in  the 
second  the  transfer  of  the  infantry  to  the  other  side  of 
the  ravine.  Prince  Andr6  having  been  the  constant 
companion  of  the  commander-in-chief  from  the  begin- 
ning of  the  campaign  had  acquired  practice  in  appre- 
hending the  moving  of  masses  and  the  judicious 
distribution  of  the  forces.  He  had  carefully  studied 
historical  narratives  of  battles,  and  in  the  engagement 
now  imminent  he  grasped  only  the  main  features,  in- 
voluntarily reflecting  on  their  bearing  on  tlie  general 
conduct  of  the  action.  "  If  the  enemy  attacks  the  right 
wing,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  the  Kiew  grenadiers  and 
the  Podolie  chasseurs  must  defend  their  positions  till 
they  can  be  supported  by  the  reserves  in  the  centre, 
and  then  the  dragoons  can  make  a  flank  movement  and 
cut  them  to  pieces.  If  they  attack  the  centre,  which  is 
covered  by  the  principal  battery,  we  can  concentrate 
the  left  flank  on  this  height  and  retire  in  good  order 
to  the  ravine."  —  As  he  made  these  reflections  he  could 
still  hear  the  voices  in  the  officers'  hut,  though  without 
paying  the  slightest  attention  to  what  they  were  saying. 
One,  however,  caught  his  ear  by  its  honest  ring,  and  he 
involuntarily  listened :  "  No,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  the 
attractive  voice,  which  he  fancied  he  knew,  "what  I 


WAR    AND   PEACE.  285 

say  is  that  if  we  only  knew  what  awaits  .us  after  death 
not  one  of  us  would  be  afraid  of  it;  that  is  the  fact,  my 
dear  fellow." 

"Well,  afraid  or  not,"  said  a  younger  voice,  "it  is 
the  same  thing  in  the  end;  we  cannot  escape  it.'* 

"  No,  but  meanwhile  we  are  afraid." 

"Oh,  you  know  all  about  it  of  course!"  came  from 
a  deeper  throat.  "  You  artillery  men  are  so  cock-sure 
only  because  you  always  have  your  brandy  and  rations 
handy." 

An  infantry  man's  jest  no  doubt. 

"Yes;  and  yet  we  are  afraid,"  the  first  voice  began 
again,  "  afraid  of  the  unknown,  that  is  what  it  is !  It  is 
all  very  well  to  say  that  the  soul  goes  up  to  Heaven. 
We  know  very  well  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as 
Heaven,  nothing  but  space  above  us." 

"Come,  Tonschine,  give  us  a  share  of  your  ab- 
sinthe," said  the  heavier  voice. 

"Then  it  is  the  little  captain  I  saw  without  his  boots 
in  the  vivandiere's  tent,"  thought  Bolkonsky,  pleased 
to  recognize  the  voice  of  the  philosopher. 

"Absinthe,  to  be  sure,  why  not?"  said  Tonschine. 
"As  to  understanding  the  life  to  come  .  .  .  ."  He  did 
not  finish  the  sentence,  for  at  this  moment  a  hissing 
whistle  clove  the  air  and  a  ball,  rushing  down  with 
giddy  swiftness,  plunged  into  the  ground,  flinging  up 
the  soil,  at  two  yards  from  the  hut;  the  shock  shook 
the  earth.  Tonschine  rushed  out  with  his  pipe  in  his 
mouth;  his  kindly,  bright  face  was  rather  pale.  After 
him  came  the  infantry  officer  of  the  bass  voice,  button- 


286  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

ing  his  jacket  as  he  ran  off,  full  tilt,  to  join  his  com- 
pany. 

Prince  Andre  remounted,  and  stood  by  the  battery 
seeking  all  round  the  wide  horizon  the  piece  which  had 
fired  the  ball.  He  could  detect  a  sort  of  undulation 
among  the  masses  of  French,  which  till  now  had  re- 
mained motionless,  and  made  out  the  position  of  the 
battery  he  had  suspected.  Two  men  on  horseback 
were  galloping  down  the  mountain  side,  and  at  the 
foot  a  small  column  of  the  enemy  were  advancing,  evi- 
dently for  the  purpose  of  strengthening  the  outposts. 
The  smoke  of  the  first  shot  had  not  dispersed  before  a 
second  cloud  puffed  up  and  another  roar  was  heard  : 
the  action  had  begun.  Prince  Andre  rushed  off,  full 
speed,  towards  Grounth  to  join  Prince  Bagration.  The 
cannonade  grew  in  violence  behind  him,  and  the  Rus- 
sians were  answering.  Below,  where  the  envoys  had 
met,  a  brisk  fusillade  was  going  on. 

Lemarrois  had  just  delivered  Napoleon's  irate  letter 
to  Murat.  Murat,  ashamed  of  having  been  duped  and 
only  anxious  to  win  forgiveness,  at  once  marched  his 
troops  down  on  the  Russian  centre,  hoping  to  turn 
both  flanks  at  once  and  to  demolish  the  small  division 
that  opposed  him  before  nightfall,  and  before  the  ar- 
rival of  Bonaparte. 

"It  has  begun!"  said  Prince  Andre  to  himself. 
"  But  where  am  I  to  find  my  Toulon  ?" 

As  he  rode  through  the  companies  which,  only,  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  ago,  had  been  quietly  eating  their 
soup,  he   found  them  everywhere  astir;    the  soldiers 


1 


WAR  AND    PEACE.  287 

seizing  their  muskets  and  falling  into  their  ranks,  while 
the  excitement  he  felt  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart  was 
plainly  legible  on  their  faces.  Like  him,  they,  too, 
seemed  to  be  saying  with  mixed  emotions  of  dread  and 
gladness:  *' It  has  begun!" 

At  a  short  distance  from  the  unfinished  earthworks 
he  saw,  through  the  dusk  of  a  misty  autumn  evening, 
several  officers  on  horseback,  riding  towards  him.  The 
foremost,  wrapped  in  a  bourka  *  was  on  a  white  horse; 
this  was  Bagration  himself,  who  recognized  Bolkonsky 
and  nodded  to  him.  Bolkonsky  drew  up  to  wait  for 
him  and  report  on  what  he  had  seen.  As  he  listened 
Bagration  gazed  before  him,  and  Prince  Andre  could 
not  help  wondering  with  uneasy  curiosity  as  he  studied 
the  details  of  his  face — with  its  strongly-marked 
features,  and  half-shut,  vague,  dreamy  eyes — what 
thoughts  and  feelings  lay  hidden  behind  that  impene- 
trable mask? 

"Very  good,"  he  said  bowing  acquiescence,  as 
though  he  had  foreseen  everything  Prince  Andre  could 
tell  him.  Prince  Andre,  out  of  breath  with  the  pace  he 
had  been  making,  talked  volubly,  while  Prince  Bagra- 
tion accented  all  his  words,  dropping  them  slowly,  in 
Eastern  fashion,  from  his  lips.  He  put  spurs  to  his 
horse,  but  without  the  sHghtest  appearance  of  precipi- 
tancy, and  rode  towards  Tonschine's  battery,  followed 
by  his  suite  which  consisted  of  a  staff-officer,  of  his  per- 
sonal aide-de-camp,  of  Prince  Andre,  Gerkow,  an  or- 
derly, the  staff-officer  on  duty  and  a  civil  official  em- 

■■'  A  bourka  is  a  hooded  coat  of  woollen  stuff.     In  French  caban. 


288  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

ployed  as  auditor,  who,  out  of  sheer  curiosity,  had 
asked  and  obtained  permission  to  look  on  at  a  battle. 
This  burly,  round-faced  civilian,  seated  on  a  pack 
saddle  and  jolted  by  his  steed,  in  his  thick  camlet  cloak, 
looked  about  with  a  placid,  greenhorn  smile,-  a  queer 
figure  in  the  midst  of  the  hussars,  Cossacks  and  aides- 
de-camp. 

"To  think  that  he  should  want  to  see  a  battle!" 
said  Gerkow  to  Bolkonsky,  pointing  out  the  civilian. 
"Why  his  stomach  turns  already." 

'-'Come  now,  you  might  spare  me,"  said  the  stranger, 
who  seemed  very  well  content  to  be  the  butt  of  Ger- 
kow's  jokes,  and  tried  to  look  more  obtuse  than  he 
really  was. 

^^Y try  i\.musmg,  mo?i  monsieur  Prince,^'  said  the  of- 
ficer on  duty;  he  remembered  that  in  speaking  French 
the  title  must  be  preceded  by  another  word,  but  could 
not  hit  it  quite  rightly.  They  were  near  Tonschine's 
battery  when  a  ball  fell  at  a  short  distance. 

"What  was  that?"  asked  the  civilian. 

"A  French  pancake,"  replied  Gerkow. 

"That  is  what  kills  men  then?"  said  the  other, 
"Heavens  !     This  is  very  alarming  !"  he  added  hghtly» 

He  had  hardly  spoken  when  a  terrific,  an  appalling 
whistle  rang  through  the  air.  A  Cossack  slipped  off 
his  horse  and  fell  a  little  way  to  the  right  of  the  speaker. 
Gerkow  and  the  officer  on  duty  bent  low  pulling  their 
horses  aside.  The  civilian  stopped,  looking  with 
curious  contemplation  at  the  Cossack ;  he  was  dead ; 
his  horse  was  still  struggling. 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  289 

Bagration  glanced  over  his  shoulder,  and  guessmg 
the  cause  of  the  commotion  coolly  turned  away,  as 
much  as  to  say :  "  It  is  not  worth  while  to  be  worried 
about  such  trifles." 

He  drew  up,  however,  and  leaning  over  like  a  good 
horseman  as  he  was,  he  disengaged  his  sword  which 
had  caught  in  his  cloak.  It  was  an  old  sword,  unlike 
those  commonly  worn,  a  present  from  Souvorow  in 
Italy.  Prince  Andre,  remembering  this  circumstance, 
accepted  it  as  a  good  omen. 

When  they  reached  the  battery  Bagration  asked  the 
gunner  in  charge  of  the  ammunition:  "Whose  com- 
pany?" But  he  looked  rather  as  if  he  were  asking: 
''Are  you  not  a  little  frightened?" 

The  man  read  it  so. 

''  Captain  Tonschine's  company,  Your  Excellency," 
he  answered  jovially  —  he  was  a  red-haired  fellow. 

"Very  good,  very  good,"  replied  Bagration.  He 
was  riding  along  by  the  gun-carriages  to  reach  the  fur- 
thest field-piece  when  it  rang  out  with  a  deafening  roar, 
and  in  the  midst  of  the  smoke  that  hung  round  it  he 
could  see  the  men  that  served  the  gun  toiling  and 
struggling  to  get  it  back  into  its  place.  Then  gunner 
No.  I,  who  held  the  ramrod,  stood  back  by  the  wheel, 
while  No.  2,  with  a  trembling  hand,  put  in  the  charge. 
Tonschine,  a  short  square  figure,  stood  tottering  on  the 
carriage  and  gazing  into  the  distance,  shading  his  eyes 
with  his  hands. 

"Two  lines  higher  will  do  it,"  he  called  out  in  his 
piping  voice,  to  which  he  tried  to  give  a  military  se- 

VoL  I.  19 


290 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


verity   that   ill    matched    his    appearance.     "No.    2  — 
Fire!" 

Bagration  called  the  little  captain  who  at  once  came 
up,  saluting  shyly  and  awkwardly,  with  his  three  fingers 
raised  to  his  cap,  more  like  a  priest  giving  a  blessing 
than  a  soldier's  salute.  Instead  of  sweeping  the  low 
ground,  as  had  been  intended,  the  guns  were  throwing 
shell  into  the  village  of  Schongraben,  in  front  of  which 
the  enemy  were  swarming  like  ants. 

No  one  had  .given  Tonschine  any  orders  as  to  where 
or  what  he  was  to  fire;  but  having  taken  council  of 
his  sergeant-major  Zakartchenko,  for  whose  opinion  he 
had  a  great  respect,  they  had  agreed  that  the  best  thing 
would  be  to  try  to  set  the  village  on  fire. 

"Very  good,"  said  Bagration,  after  listening  to  his 
account  and  examining  the  field  of  action.  From  the 
foot  of  the  slope  where  the  Kiew  regiment  was  sta- 
tioned, came  up  the  mutter  and  rattle  of  musketry; 
further  to  the  right,  behind  the  dragoons,  a  column  of 
the  enemy  could  be  seen  turning  the  Russian  flank;  to 
the  left  the  forest  bounded  the  horizon. 

Prince  Bagration  ordered  two  battalions  from  the 
centre  to  be  sent  up  to  support  the  right  flank;  the 
stafl'-ofiicer  took  the  liberty  of  representing  that  in  that 
case  the  battery  would  be  exposed  on  that  side.  Bag- 
ration  looked  once  more  and  said  nothing;  the  ob- 
servation was  correct:  there  was  nothing  to  be  said. 
At  this  instant  an  aide-de-camp  came  up  at  full  gallop 
from  the  ofticer  in  command  of  the  regiment  that  was 
fighting  down  by  the  river.     He  reported  that  enor- 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  29 1 

mous  masses  of  French  were  in  motion  across  the  low 
ground,  that  his  regiment  was  scattered  and  that  he 
was  about  to  retire  and  join  the  Kiew  grenadiers. 
Bagration  signed  consent  and  approbation.  Then,  he 
slowly  went  off  to  the  right,  sending  an  order  to  the 
dragoons  to  attack  at  once;  about  half  an  hour  later 
his  messenger  came  back  to  say  that  the  dragoons  had 
already  retired  to  the  other  side  of  the  ravine  in  order 
to  avoid  the  terrific  fire  and  useless  loss  of  life;  they 
were  sending  out  sharp-shooters  among  the  brushwood. 

"Very  good,"  said  Bagration  once  more,  and  he 
quitted  the  battery. 

Firing  could  be  heard  in  the  forest;  the  left  flank 
was  too  distant  for  the  commander-in-chief  to  reach  it 
in  time,  so  he  sent  off  Gerkow  to  desire  the  general  in 
command — the  very  man  whose  regiment  had  been  re- 
viewed at  Braunau  by  Koutouzow  —  to  retire  as  fast  as 
possible  beyond  the  ravine  as  the  right  flank  would  not 
long  be  able  to  hold  out  against  the  enemy.  Thus, 
Tonschine  was  forgotten  and  his  battery  left  exposed 
and  unprotected. 

Prince  Andre  listened  carefully  to  the  remarks  that 
passed  between  the  commander-in-chief  and  the  dif- 
ferent commanding  officers,  and  to  the  orders  that  were 
given. 

He  was  surprised  to  find  that  Bagration,  in  fact, 
never  gave  an  order,  but  merely  tried  to  give  the  im- 
pression that  his  own  intentions  had  been  impUcitly 
carried  out  when,  in  reality,  all  that  was  done  was  the 
outcome  of  circumstances,  of  the  resolution  of  his  sub- 


2g: 


WAR   AND    PEACE. 


ordinates,  or  the  caprices  of  chance.  Nevertheless — 
and  in  spite  of  the  unsatisfactory  turn  that  events  were 
taking  and  that  he  had  not  expected — Prince  Andre 
was  obhged  to  confess  that  his  chief's  perfect  tact  made 
his  presence  most  valuable.  The  mere  sight  of  him  re- 
stored confidence  to  those  who  came  up  to  him  with 
grieved  and  anxious  looks;  officers  and  soldiers  alike 
saluted  him  cheerfully,  and  spurred  each  other  on  to 
display  all  their  courage  in  his  presence.  Prince  Bag- 
ration  mounted  to  the  highest  shoulder  of  the  Russian 
ridge  on  the  right  and  rode  down  into  the  plain,  where 
the  firing  never  ceased,  and  where  he  and  his  suite  were 
presently  wrapped  in  the  dense  cloud  of  smoke  which 
hid  the  scene  from  their  ken.  At  every  step,  though 
they  could  see  nothing  distinctly,  they  felt  that  they 
were  getting  nearer  to  the  heart  of  the  struggle.  They 
met  wounded  men;  one  of  them,  who  had  lost  his 
shako  and  whose  head  was  wounded,  was  being  dragged 
along  supported  by  two  soldiers;  he  was  vomiting 
blood  and  his  breath  rattled:  the  bullet  had,  no  doubt, 
gone  into  his  mouth  or  throat.  Another  had  dropped 
his  gun  and  was  striding  bravely  along,  looking  more 
scared  than  hurt,  but  wringing  his  smashed  hand  from 
the  keen,  unaccustomed  smart,  while  the  blood  ran 
down  over  his  coat.  After  crossing  the  high-road  they 
went  down  a  scarped  incline  where  several  men  had 
fallen,  and  further  on  were  met  by  some  more  soldiers, 
unhurt,  but  shouting  and  gesticulating  in  spite  of  the 
general's  presence.  At  a  few  paces  off  the  lines  of 
grey  coats  could  be  distinguished  through  the  smoke, 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  293 

and  an  officer,  seeing  Bagration,  ran  to  the  men  who 
jverejollowing  him  and  desired  them  to  return  at  once. 

The  commander-in-chief  went  down  to  the  ranks; 
the  incessant  snap  of  shots  rose  above  the  hmii  of 
voices  and  the  word  of  command.  The  men's  eager 
faces  were  blackened  with  gunpowder;  some  were 
ramming  the  charge  home,  others  were  pouring  pow- 
der into  the  pan  or  taking  cartridges  out  of  their 
pouches ;  others  again  were  firing  at  random,  through 
the  dense  cloud  of  smoke  that  hung  motionless  in 
the  air.  Now  and  again,  at  short  intervals,  a  sharp 
disagreeable  whiz,  unlike  any  other  sound,  jarred 
painfully  on  the  ear. 

"  What  is  going  on  here  ?"  thought  Prince  Andre, 
approaching  this  mob.  '*  They  are  not  skirmishers  for 
they  form  in  a  mass ;  it  is  not  an  attack,  for  they  are 
standing  still,  nor,  on  tlie  other  hand,  is  it  a  square  .  .  ." 

The  commanding  officer,  a  lean  and  frail-looking 
old  man  with  heavy  eyelids  that  almost  hid  his  eyes, 
met  Prince  Bagration  with  a  genial  smile  as  if  he  were 
receiving  a  welcome  guest.  He  explained  that  his 
regiment  had  been  attacked  by  the  French  cavalry  and 
had  repulsed  them,  but  with  the  loss  of  more  than  half  its 
number.  He  used  military  language  in  calling  the  fray 
that  had  just  taken  place  an  attack,  though,  in  point  of 
fact,  he  had  no  clear  idea  of  the  position  of  his  troops 
during  the  last  half-hour,  or  whether  the  attack  had 
been  repulsed,  or  his  regiment  broken  through.'  Nothing 
was  certain  but  the  hail  of  bullets  and  grenades  which 
had  incessantly  decimated  his  men  ever  since  they  had 


294 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


begun  fighting  at  the  cry  of:  "  Here  comes  the  cav- 
alry !"  The  cry  was  the  signal  for  a  general  melee  and 
they  had  fired,  not  indeed  on  the  cavalry,  but  on  the 
French  infantry  who  had  been  seen  in  the  valley. 

Prince  Bagration  again  nodded  approbation  of  the 
report,  as  though  it  were  all  he  could  wish,  and  just 
what  he  had  foreseen.  Then  turning  to  his  aide-de- 
camp, he  desired  him  to  fetch  down  from  the  height 
the  two  battalions  of  the  sixth  chasseurs  whom  he  had 
seen  as  he  rode  past.  At  this  moment  Bolkonsky  was 
struck  by  the  change  that  had  taken  place  in  his  chief's 
face:  it  expressed  decision  and  self-reliance  —  the  look 
of  a  man  who  takes  a  run  and  a  leap  to  plunge  into 
cool  waters  on  a  hot  summer-day.  The  vague,  sleepy 
gaze,  the  deceptive  mask  affecting  to  cover  deep  calcu- 
lations, had  vanished;  his  hawk's  eyes,  round  and  de- 
termined, looked  up  brightly  without  fixing  on  any- 
thing, with  a  sort  of  contemptuous  enthusiasm,  while 
his  movements  were  as  deliberate  and  methodical  as 
ever.  The  general  begged  him  to  withdraw  as  the 
spot  was  a  perilous  one  :  ''  In  Heaven's  name,  Your 
Excellency  !  Only  look  !"  for  the  bullets  were  singing 
and  rattling  on  every  side. 

He  spoke  with  the  persuasive  tone  of  remonstrance 
that  a  carpenter  might  use  who  saw  his  master  trying 
to  use  a  hatchet:  "As  for  us,  we  are  used  to  it  —  but 
you  will  get  corns  on  your  hands." 

He  himself  seemed  confident  that  the  bullets  would 
respect  him,  and  the  staff-officer  vainly  added  his  en- 
treaties.    Bagration,  mstead  of  answering  them,  ordered 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  295 

that  the  men  should  stop  firing  and  form  in  ranks  to 
make  way  for  the  battahons  who  were  advancing. 
Even  while  he  v/as  speaking  it  seemed  as  though  some 
invisible  hand  on  the  left  were  raising  a  corner  of  the 
curtain  of  smoke  that  shrouded  the  distance ;  every  one 
looked  at  the  hill,  which  was  gradually  unveiled  before 
their  eyes,  and  which  the  enemy  were  steadily  descend- 
ing. Already  the  fur  hats  of  the  grenadiers  were 
recognizable,  the  officers  could  be  distinguished  from 
the  rank  and  file  and  the  flag  could  be  seen  hanging  in 
heavy  folds  round  the  staff. 

"  How  well  they  march !"  said  a  voice  in  Bagra- 
tion's  suite.  The  head  of  the  column  had  now  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  ravine  and  on  that  side  of  the  slope 
a  collision  was  imminent. 

The  remains  of  the  regiment  that  had  stood  the 
brunt  of  the  attack  hastily  re-formed  and  went  off  to 
the  right,  while  the  two  battalions  of  sixth  light  infantry 
came  on  with  a  heavy,  regular,  rhythmical  tramp,  driv- 
ing the  stragglers  before  them.  On  the  left,  nearest  to 
Bagration,  marched  the  captain  in  command ;  a  man 
of  splendid  physique  with  a  broad  face  and  dull,  self- 
satisfied  expression  —  the  man  who  had  rushed  out  of 
the  hut  with  Tonschine.  It  was  evident  that  he  had 
but  one  idea :  that  of  marching  past  his  chief  with  an 
effective  swagger.  Balancing  himself  steadily  on  his 
big  feet,  he  walked  bolt  upright  without  the  slightest 
effort,  holding  his  short  sword  with  its  slender  curved 
blade  naked  in  his  hand ;  he  looked  now  at  the  prince 
and  now  at  his  men,  without  ever  losing  step,  and  re- 


296 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


peated  as  he  strode  on,  turning  his  strong,  supple  form : 
"  Left,  left,  left." — The  moving  wall  of  men  marched  in 
time,  and  each  face,  all  grave,  all  different,  weighted  as 
it  were  by  the  gun  and  knapsack,  seemed,  like  him,  to 
express  but  one  idea  and  to  be  repeating  after  him  : 
"  Left,  left,  left !  .  .  ." 

A  breathless  sergeant  lost  step  in  getting  round  a 
bush  in  the  path;  a  straggler,  frightened  at  his  own 
heedlessness,  was  running  to  catch  up  his  company. 

A  ball  came  singing  over  the  heads  of  Bagration 
and  his  staff,  and  fell  in  the  middle  of  the  column,  a 
grim  accompaniment  to  tlie  steady:  "  Left,  left,  left!.  .  ." 

"  Close  up  the  ranks,"  shouted  the  captain  with  a 
swagger;  the  soldiers  parted  as  they  went  past  the  spot 
where  the  ball  had  fallen,  and  an  old  sergeant  with 
many  stripes,  who  had  been  left  behind  in  charge  of  the 
killed,  fell  into  the  ranks  and  caught  up  the  step  with 
anxious  haste;  the  word  of  command:  "  Left,  left,  left," 
again  gave  time  to  the  regular  tramp  of  the  soldiers,  a 
voice  from  the  ominous  silence. 

"  You  have  come  through  it  like  men,  my  children!" 
said  Bagration.  "Glad  to  have  had  the  trouble!"* 
rose  from  each  detachment  in  turn.  One  sullen  man 
looked  up  at  the  general  as  much  as  to  say :  "  "We 
know  that  as  well  as  you  do,"  and  another,  without 
looking  round  for  fear  of  losing  step,  opened  his  mouth 
wide  and  shouted. 

The  word  was  given  to  halt  and  unstrap  their  knap- 

*  This  response  is  required  of  the  soldiers  in  the  Russian  array 
when  thanked  or  praised  by  their  commander. 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  297 

sacks.  Bagration  rode  down  the  ranks  that  had  just 
marched  past  him,  got  off  his  horse,  threw  the  bridle  to 
his  Cossack,  gave  him  his  bourka  to  hold,  and  stretched 
his  legs.  At  this  instant  the  front  of  the  French 
column,  with  the  officers  leading,  appeared  from  behind 
the  hill. 

"  Forward  !  and  God  help  you  !"  cried  Bagration  in 
a  firm  clear  voice ;  he  glanced  round  at  the  men  and 
went  forward  himself  on  the  uneven  ground,  with  the 
rolling  gait  of  a  cavalry  officer  on  foot.  Prince  Andre 
was  carried  away  by  an  irresistible  impulse ;  he  felt 
perfectly  happy.* 

The  French  were  not  far  off;  he   could  see  their 
faces,  their  belts  and  red  epaulettes,  and  an  old  officer 
painfully  climbing  the  height  —  his  feet  turned  out  "^and 
he  wore  gaiters.     A  shot  —  another  —  a  third,  and  the? 
hostile  lines  were  shrouded  in  smoke,  the  battle  had  be-    \ 
gun  again.   Some  of  the  Russians  fell,  and  among  them/^ 
the  officer  who  had  been  at  such  pains  to  cut  a  figure 
in  the  eyes  of  his  superiors.     At  the  crack  of  the  first 
shot    Bagration    shouted    hurrah !      And    a   prolonged 
cheer  had  answered  him  all  along  the  line ;  the  soldiers, 
outstripping  their  officers  and  each  other,  rushed  trium- 
phantly in  pursuit  of  the  French  whose  ranks  had  given 
way. 

The  attack  of  the  6th  chasseurs  had  covered  the  re- 


*  Monsieur  Thiers  gives  the  following  account  of  this  collision  : 
"  A  rare  thing  in  battle,  the  two  masses  of  infantry  marched  reso- 
lutely to  meet  each  other,  neither  giving  way,  till  they  were  within 
range  .  .  .     The  Russians  bore  themselves  valiantly." 


298  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

treat  of  the  right  flank.  In  the  centre,  the  conflagration 
caused  at  Schongraben  by  Tonschine  and  his  neglected 
battery  checked  the  progress  of  the  French  who  stopped 
to  put  out  the  fire  which  the  wind  fanned  and  spread, 
thus  giving  the  Russians  time  to  retire ;  the  retreat  of 
the  centre  across  the  ravine  was  efl'ected  with  much 
noise  and  hurry,  though  in  very  good  order.  The  left 
flank,  however,  consisting  of  the  Azow  and  Podolie 
regiments,  which  had  been  attacked  at  the  same  time 
and  surrounded  by  superior  numbers  under  Lannes, 
had  completely  given  way. 

Bagration  sent  Gerkow  to  instruct  the  general  in 
command  to  retire  at  once.  Gerkow,  saluting  with  his 
finger-tips,  set  off  at  a  smart  gallop,  but  he  had  hardly 
started  when  his  courage  failed  him ;  seized  by  an  in- 
sane fit  of  fright  he  could  by  no  effort  persuade  himself 
to  meet  the  danger;  not  venturing  within  range  of  the 
firing  he  looked  for  the  general  and  the  other  officers 
where  they  could  not  possibly  be — of  course  the  or- 
der was  never  delivered. 

The  officer  in  command  of  the  left  flank  was  by 
seniority  and  rank  the  chief  of  the  regiment  we  saw  ar- 
rive at  Braunau,  in  Avhich  Dologhow  Avas  serving,  while 
the  extreme  left  was  commanded  by  a  colonel  of  the 
Pavlograd  regiment,  to  which  Rostow  belonged.  These 
two  officers  were  excessively  angry  with  each  other,  and 
this  occasioned  a  misunderstanding;  they  were  still 
losing  time  in  abusive  recrimination  when  fighting  had 
long  since  begun  on  the  right  flank,  and  the  French 
were  beginning  to  give  way.     The  cavalry  and  light  in- 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  299 

fan  try  regiment  were  in  no  condition  to  take  part  in  the 
engagement,  and  from  the  general  to  the  private,  no 
one  expected  to  be  called  upon :  the  infantry  were 
quietly  making  their  fires  and  the  cavalry  finding 
forage. 

"  Your  chief  is  my  senior  in  rank,"  said  the  German 
officer  in  command  of  the  hussars  to  the  aide-de-camp 
of  the  light  infantry  regiment ;  his  face  was  purple  with 
rage.  "  He  may  do  as  he  pleases ;  I  will  not  sacrifice 
my  men.     Buglers,  sound  a  retreat  !" 

However,  the  battle  waxed  hot ;  cannon  and  mus- 
ketry roared  and  rattled ;  in  the  centre  and  on  the  right 
Lannes'  skirmishers  were  crossing  the  mill-dam  and 
forming  just  beyond  gun-shot  range  along  the  Russian 
flank.  The  infantry  general  clambered  heavily  into  his 
saddle,  and  drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  rode 
off  to  speak  to  the  colonel  of  cavalry.  The  extreme 
politeness  of  their  manner  concealed  their  animosity. 

"  Really,  Colonel,  I  cannot  leave  half  my  men  in  the 
wood.  I  beg  of  you.  .  .  ."  and  he  emphasized  the 
word  —  "I  beg  of  you  to  occupy  the  ground  and  be 
prepared  for  an  attack." 

"  And  I  beg  of  you  to  mind  your  own  business ;  if 
you  were  a  cavalry  officer.  ..." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  cavalry,  Colonel,  but  I  am  a  Rus- 
sian general;  if  you  do  not  know  it.  .  .  ." 

"  I  know  it  perfectly  well.  Your  Excellency,"  said 
the  other,  digging  his  spurs  into  his  horse  and  turning 
red. — "  Would  you  like  to  come  with  me  to  inspect  the 
outposts !      Then  you  would  see  for  yourself  that  the 


300 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


position  is  untenable ;  I  have  no  fancy  to  see  my  men 
massacred  to  please  you." 

"You  forget  yourself,  Colonel;  it  is  not  to  please 
me,  and  I  cannot  allow  you  to  say  so.  .  .  ." 

The  general  accepted  this  challenge  to  a  test  of 
courage :  his  breast  swelling  and  his  brows  fiercely  knit 
he  went  forward  with  the  colonel  to  the  line  of  skir- 
mishers, as  if  their  disagreement  could  only  be  settled 
under  fire.  Having  got  so  far  they  stopped  in  silence 
while  a  few  bullets  whistled  over  their  heads.  There 
was  nothing  fresh  to  be  seen,  for  the  impossibility  of 
manoeuvring  cavalry  in  the  midst  of  rifts  and  brush- 
wood was  as  obvious  from  the  spot  they  had  left  as  the 
movement  of  the  French  to  surround  the  left  wing.  The 
two  officers  looked  at  each  other  like  two  game-cocks 
about  to  fight,  each  waiting  in  vain  for  the  other  to 
show  a  sign  of  yielding.  They  both  stood  the  test  with 
honor  and  might  have  prolonged  it  for  an  indefinite 
period  out  of  bravado,  neither  being  willing  to  give  in 
first,  if,  at  this  instant,  a  sharp  volley  and  a  confused 
outcry  had  not  rung  out  close  behind  them. 

The  French  had  fallen  on  a  fatigue  party  who  were  col- 
lecting firewood ;  the  question  as  to  whether  the  hussars 
should  retire  with  the  infantry  was  thus  settled,  for  their 
retreat  was  cut  off  on  the  left  by  the  enemy's  outposts, 
and  they  had  no  choice  but  to  attack  and  force  a  pas- 
sage, in  spite  of  the  difficulties  of  the  broken  ground. 

Rostow's  squadron  had  barely  time  to  mount ;  they 
were  just  in  front  of  the  enemy,  and,  as  on  the  bridge  at 
Enns,  there  was  nothing  between  them  and  the  foe  but 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  30I 

that  space,  that  gulf  of  terror  and  the  unknown  be- 
tween the  living  and  the  dead,  of  which  each  was  in- 
stinctively conscious  as  he  wondered  whether  he  would 
be  one  of  those  to  cross  it  safe  and  sound  ! 

The  colonel  rode  to  the  front,  answering  the  officers* 
questions  with  ill-temper ;  he  flung  out  an  order,  evi- 
dently determined  to  go  his  OAvn  way.  Nothing  very 
clear  was  known,  but  something  in  the  air  gave  warn- 
ing of  an  attack  and  suddenly  the  word  came  :  "  Fall 
in  !"  and  the  clash  of  unsheathing  sabres.  No  one  stirred: 
the  indecision  of  the  commanding  officers  was  so  ap- 
parent that  it  soon  infected  the  troops,  infantry  and 
cavalry  alike. 

"  Oh  !  if  only  it  would  come  quicker,  quicker," 
thought  Rostovv,  feehng  the  moment  of  attack  at 
hand  —  that  supreme  and  triumphant  joy  of  which  he 
had  so  often  heard  his  comrades  speak, 

"  Forward  and  God  be  with  you,  lads  !"  cried  Denis- 
sow.  The  horses'  haunches  rose  and  fell ;  the  "  Crow  '* 
tossed  his  bridle  and  cantered  off. 

On  Rostow's  right  were  the  foremost  ranks  of  his 
hussars ;  in  front  of  him  a  dark  line,  too  far  off  to  be 
distinctly  visible,  but  which  he  knew  to  be  the  enemy. 
The  crack  of  muskets  in  the  distance. 

"  Charge  !"  And  Rostow  felt  his  blood  fire  in  sym- 
pathy with  his  excited  charger.  A  tree  standing  alone, 
which  to  his  fancy  had  seemed  to  mark  that  mysterious 
line,  was  left  behind  them  :  "  Well,  we  have  passed  it, 
and  there  is  nothing  terrible  about  it ;  on  the  contrary, 
it  is  livelier  and  more  amusing  every  moment.  Oh  !  how 


302  WAR   AND   PEACE. 

I  will  slash  at  them !"  he  muttered  to  himself,  and  he 
gripped  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 

A  tremendous  hurrah  was  shouted  behind  him. 
"  Only  let  me  get  at  them  !"  And  giving  his  horse  a 
lift  he  spurred  him  to  top-speed;  the  enemy  were  in 
sight.  Suddenly  a  tremendous  crack  of  whips  lashed 
the  whole  line  —  Rostow^  raised  his  hand  to  strike  with 
his  sword,  but  at  the  same  moment  he  saw  Nikitenka, 
the  man  who  was  riding  in  front  of  him,  gallop  off  out 
of  sight,  and  he  felt  himself  rushing  on  at  a  giddy  pace, 
as  if  in  a  dream,  without  moving  from  the  spot.  A 
hussar  flew  past  and  looked  at  him  with  a  gloomy  face. 

"What  is  happening? —  I  am  not  moving;  have  I 
had  a  fall?— Am  I  dead?" 

Questions  and  answers  buzzed  in  his  brain.  He 
was  alone  in  the  midst  of  a  field;  no  frenzied  horses, 
no  hussars,  nothing  to  be  seen  anywhere  but  the  still 
■earth  and  the  short  stubble.  Something  warm  — 
blood — was  flowing  round  him. 

"No,  I  am  only  hurt;  my  horse  is  killed." 

The  "Crow"  tried  to  get  on  to  his  feet,  but  fell 
back  with  all  his  weight  on  his  rider;  a  stream  of  blood 
was  flowing  from  his  head,  and  he  struggled  in  vain  ef- 
forts to  rise.  Rostow  attempting  to  get  up  also  fell 
back;  his  sash  had  caught  on  the  saddle. 

"Where  are  our  men?     Where  are  the  French?" 

He  could  not  imagine  —  not  a  soul  was  to  be  seen. 

Having  succeeded  in  freeing  himself  from  the  weight 
of  his  horse  he  got  on  his  feet ;  where  now  was  the  line 
that  so  clearly  divided  the  armies  ? 


WAR  AND    PEACE.  303 

"Something  serious  must  have  happened  to  me. 
Is  this  always  the  way  I  wonder?  What  ought  I  to  do 
next?"  He  felt  a  strange  heaviness  about  his  left  arm; 
it  was  quite  numb,  and  his  wrist  did  not  seem  to  belong 
to  him,  still  there  was  no  sign  of  blood  on  his  hand. 

"Ah!  here  are  some  men  at  last,  they  will  help 
me,"  he  thought  with  much  joy.  The  foremost  of  the 
men  who  were  running  towards  him,  a  weather-beaten 
sunburnt  fellow  with  a  hooked  nose,  wore  a  blue  cloak 
and  a  shako  of  foreign  shape ;  one  of  them  spoke  a  few 
words  in  a  language  which  was  not  Russian.  Some 
others,  dressed  in  the  same  fashion,  were  leading  a  hus- 
sar of  his  own  regiment. 

"A  prisoner  no  doubt  —  but  will  they  take  me,  too?" 
said  Rostow  to  himself,  hardly  believing  his  eyes. 
"Are  they  French?" 

He  looked  sharply  at  the  party  as  they  drew  nearer, 
and  in  spite  of  his  recent  valiant  fit  and  wish  to  exter- 
minate them  all  their  vicinity  froze  him  with  fear. 

"Where  are  they  going? — Are  they  coming  after 
me? —  Will  they  kill  me? —  Oh!  why — me?  —  every- 
one loves  me  .  .  .  ."  And  the  affection  that  his  mother, 
his  family,  everyone  had  shown  him,  rose  up  in  his 
mind  to  make  the  idea  seem  monstrous. 

He  stood  rooted  to  the  spot,  not  fully  understanding 
the  predicament:  the  hook-nosed  Frenchman,  his  queer 
face  flushed  with  running,  as  Rostow  could  already 
make  out,  was  coming  straight  at  him  with  his  bayonet 
fixed.  Rostow  clutched  at  his  pistol,  but  instead  of 
firing  at  his  foe  he  flung  it  at  his  head  with  all  his 


304 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


Strength,  took  to  his  heels,  and  ran  as  fast  as  he  could 
to  hide  among  the  brushwood. 

The  impulse  of  pugnacity  and  enthusiasm  that  he 
had  felt  on  the  bridge  at  Enns  was  utterly  extinct;  he 
ran  like  a  hare  with  the  dogs  at  her  heels;  the  instinct 
of  preserving  his  young  and  happy  life  possessed  him 
Avholly  and  lent  him  wings.  Leaping  ditches,  skipping 
over  furrows  with  all  the  nimbleness  of  his  boyhood,  he 
constantly  turned  his  pale,  sweet  face  to  look  behind 
him  while  a  shudder  of  fear  spurred  him  to  fly  faster. 

"It  is  better  not  to  look  back,"  he  thought;  but 
when  he  reached  the  first  bushes  he  stopped.  The 
Frenchmen  were  far  behind  and  the  one  who  was  pur- 
suing him  was  going  slower  and  seemed  to  be  calling 
his  companions. 

"It  is  impossible,  they  cannot  want  to  kill  me,"  said 
the  lad  to  himself. 

But  his  arm  grew  heavier  every  minute;  he  could 
have  believed  he  had  a  hundred-weight  to  carry — he 
could  drag  himself  no  further.  The  Frenchman  was 
aiming  at  him,  he  shut  his  eyes  and  ducked:  a  bullet, 
another,  whistled  past  his  ears.  Then,  collecting  all 
his  remaining  strength  and  carrying  his  left  wrist  in  his 
right  hand,  he  scrambled  on  through  the  bushes. 
There  was  safety  —  there  were  the  Russian  sharp- 
shooters. 


The  infantry  taken  by  surprise  in  the  w.ood  had 
rushed  out  in  hot  haste  and  in  complete  confusion.     A 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  305 

scared  soldier  had  spoken  the  words  of  such  terrible 
significance  in  war:  "We  are  cut  off." 

A  panic  spread  through  the  whole  mass:  "Sur- 
rounded, cut  off,  lost!"  cried  the  fugitives. 

At  the  first  sound  of  firing  and  the  first  outcry  the 
general  understood  that  something  terrible  had  hap- 
pened. .  Struckwiththethought  that  he-— a  punctilious 
officer,  for  so  many  years  an  exemplary  soldier— might 
possibly  be  accused  by  his  superiors  of  negligence  and 
indifference,  he  grasped  the  bow  of  his  saddle,  and  for- 
getful of  the  danger,  spurred  his  horse  to  a  gallop 
and  set  off  to  join  his  regiment,  under  a  storm  of  bullets 
which  fortunately  did  not  even  graze  him.  He  had  but 
one  wish:  to  ascertain  what  had  occurred,  to  repair  the 
error  if  it  should  be  attributed  to  him,  and  escape  all 
blame— he  who  could  show  twenty-two  years  of  untar- 
nished service! 

When  he  had  thus  happily  crossed  the  enemy's  line 
of  fire,  on  the  other  side  of  the  wood  he  fell  into  the 
midst  of  the  fugitives  who  were  dispersing  in  every  di-,--] 
rection,  and  deaf  to  every  word  of  command.     It  was    \ 
the  critical  moment  of  moral  vacillation  which  decides 
the  issue  of  a  battle.     Would  these  frenzied  troops  obey     ^ 
the  hitherto  respected   voice  of  their  commander,   or     J 
would  they  persist  in  flight?     In  spite  of  his  despairing 
appeals,  his  face  of  fury,  his  threatening  demonstrations, 
the  men  ran  and  still  ran,  firing  in  the  air  without  look- 
ing back.     Their  fate  was  sealed:  the  balance  at  that 
doubtful  crisis  had  been  struck  on  the  side  of  terror. 
The  general  was  nearly  choking  with  shouting,  the 

Val  I. 


g  WAR  AND   PEACE.  ■ 

smoke  blinded  him;  in  his  despair  he  did  not  even  stir 
AlTseemed  lost,  when  suddenly  the  French  m  pursuU 
t  hout  any  a;  parent  reason,  turned  round  and  fled 
Tck  to  the- forest  where  the  Russian  skirm.shers  were 
'ow  to  be   seen.     It  was  Timokhine's  company    he 
alone  had  succeeded  in  keeping  his  men  n.  good  order 
and  had  entrenched  himself  in  the  d.tch  at  the  edge  of 
the  wood  whence  he  had  attacked  the  French  .n  the. 
rear;    Timokhine,    flourishing    his    short    sword     had 
rushed  upon  the  foe  with  such  '.-  fie  .rnpetusa.Kl  such 
rash  courage  that  the  French  in  their  turn  took  flight 
:^  fled,  throwing  away  their  guns.     Oologhow   who 
ran,  too,  and  kept  up  with  him,  shot  one  PO-'-^'-k    "^ 
was  the  first  to  seize  an  officer  who  surrendered  a   once^ 
The  Russian  fugitives  paused,  the  battaljons  formed 
again  and  the  enemy,  within  an  ace  of  cutting  through 
the  left  wing,  were  driven  back. 

The  commanding  officer  of  the  regiment  was  on  the 
bridge  with  Major  Ekonomow,  watching  the  fihng  otl 
of  the  companies  as  they  retired,  when  a  private  came 
close  up  to  his  horse,  pressing  against  him;  the  man 
held  an  officer's  sword;  he  had  on  a  dark  blue,  French 
capote  and  a  French  cartridge-pouch  and  shoulder 
belt;  his  head  was  bandaged  and  he  had  lost  his  shako 
and  knapsack;  there  was  a  smile  on  his  pale  face  and 
his  blue  eyes  looked  proudly  up  at  his  chief  who  could 
not  forbear  paying  him  some  attention  though  he  was 
engaged  in  giving  orders  to  Ekonomow. 

"Your  Excellency,  two  trophies,"  said  Dologhow, 
holding  up  the  sword  and  the  pouch.  "  I  took  an  ofticer 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  307 

prisoner — I  stopped  the  advance  of  a  company.  .  .  ." 
His  short,  panting  breath  betrayed  his  exhaustion ;  he 
spoke  in  jerks.  "  All  my  company  will  bear  me  witness; 
please  to  remember  it,  Your  Excellency!" 

"  Very  good,  all  right,"  replied  the  general,  still  lis- 
tening to  the  major. 

Dologhow,  untying  the  handkerchief  pulled  him  by 
the  sleeve,  and  pointing  to  the  clots  of  blood  in  his  hair : 
"A  bayonet  wound,"  he  added.  "I  was  in  front  — 
don't  forget  me.  Your  Excellency!" 

As  has  been  said  Tonschine's  battery  had  been  com- 
pletely forgotten ;  but,  towards  the  end  of  the  battle. 
Prince  Bagration,  hearing  the  cannon  still  thundering 
away  at  the  centre,  despatched  first  the  staif-officer  on 
duty  and  then  Prince  Andre  to  order  Tonschine  to 
retire  as  soon  as  possible.  The  two  battalions  which 
had  been  placed  to  defend  the  battery  had  been  moved 
away,  in  obedience  to  an  order  of  which  Tonschine 
knew  not  the  source,  to  take  part  in  the  fighting ;  still 
the  battery  kept  up  its  fire.  The  French,  deceived  by 
this  vigorous  display,  and  fancying  that  the  main 
strength  of  the  enemy  was  concentrated  on  that  side, 
tried  three  times  to  take  the  battery  but  were  driven 
back  each  time  by  the  grape-shot  that  poured  from  the 
mouths  of  these  four  solitary  cannon  left  on  these 
heights. 

Not  long  after  Bagration's  visit  of  inspection  Ton- 
schine had  succeeded  in  setting  fire  once  more  to  the 
village  of  Schongraben. 

"  Look  what  a  blaze  !  and  what  a  smoke !  —  See 


3o8 


WAR    AND    PEACE. 


them  run !"  said  the  gunners,  dehghted  at  their  success. 
All  the  pieces  were  directed  on  the  village  and  every 
hit  was  hailed  with  shouts  of  triumph.  The  flames, 
driven  by  the  wind,  spread  rapidly ;  the  French  aban- 
doned Schongraben  and  mounted  ten  guns  to  the 
right  of  it  which  responded  to  Tonschine's  firing. 

Their  childlike  delight  at  the  sight  of  the  conflagra- 
tion and  the  success  of  their  labors  prevented  the  Rus- 
sians from  observing  this  hostile  battery.  They  did  not 
notice  it  till  two  balls,  followed  by  others,  plunged  into 
their  midst.  A  gunner  had  his  leg  shot  ofl"  and  two 
horses  were  killed.  This  did  not  cool  their  ardor,  but 
it  changed  its  character;  the  horses  were  replaced  by 
two  from  a  reserve  carriage,  the  wounded  were  carried 
under  shelter,  and  the  four  guns  were  turned  on  the 
enemy's  battery.  The  officer  second  in  command 
to  Tonschine  had  been  killed  at  the  beginning  of  the 
action,  and  out  of  forty  men  to  serve  the  guns  seven- 
teen met  the  same  fate  within  an  hour.  But  the  sur- 
vivors went  on  merrily  at  their  work.  The  little  cap- 
tain, with  his  boyish,  awkward  ways,  made  his  servant 
constantly  refill  his  pipe  and  sprang  forward  to  see 
what  the  French  were  doing,  shading  his  eyes  with  his 
hand. 

"  Fire,  boys  !"  he  would  say,  and  point  the  cannon 
with  his  own  hand.  Backwards  and  forwards,  through 
the  smoke,  deafened  by  the  incessant  roar  and  quiver- 
ing at  the  shock  of  every  shot,  Tonschine  ran  from  one 
gun  to  another  with  his  pipe  between  his  teeth,  adjust- 
ing the  aim,  counting  the  remaining  charges,  or  chang- 


WAR   AND   PEACE.  3O9 

ing  the  horses.  In  the  midst  of  this  infernal  uproar  his 
thin  Httle  voice  gave  unceasing  orders,  his  face  grew 
more  eager  every  moment;  it  only  clouded  when  a 
man  fell  dead  or  wounded,  then  he  turned  away  to  call 
out  angrily  to  the  survivors  —  always  slow  to  remove 
the  dead  or  disabled.  The  gunners  —  all  fine  men  and, 
as  is  often  the  case  in  the  artillery,  twa  heads  taller  and 
of  much  broader  build  than  their  captain  —  looked  at 
him  enquiringly,  like  children  in  a  difficulty,  and  the 
expression  of  his  face  was  immediately  reflected  in  their 
manly  features. 

Thanks  to  the  incessant  rating,  to  the  din  and  the 
compulsory  activity,  Tonschine  felt  not  the  smallest  fear; 
he  did  not  admit  the  possibility  of  his  being  wounded 
or  killed.  He  felt  as  though  it  were  quite  a  long  time 
since  he  had  fired  the  first  shot  at  the  foe,  that  he  had 
been  there  since  yesterday,  that  those  few  feet  square  of 
earth  were  familiar  and  long-known  to  him.  He  forgot 
nothing  and  made  his  arrangements  with  as  perfect 
coolness  as  the  most  experienced  officer  could  have 
done  in  his  place,  and  nevertheless  he  was  in  a 
state  bordering  on  intoxication  or  delirium.  In  the 
midst  of  the  stunning  clamor  of  the  battery,  of  the 
smoke,  of  the  enemy's  ball  —  which  were  falling  on  the 
ground,  on  a  gun,  on  a  man  or  a  horse — surrounded  by 
his  bustling  men,  while  his  face  streamed  with  sweat, 
his  brain  was  busy  in  a  weird  fantastic  world  full  of 
feverish  delights.  In  this  waking  dream  the  hostile 
cannon  were  gigantic  tobacco  pipes  out  of  which  an 
invisible  smoker  was  blowing  light  clouds  of  vapor. 


3IO  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

"Hallo!  another  puff!"  said  Tonschine  in  an  un- 
dertone marking  a  white  smoke-wreath  borne  away  by 
the  breeze.     "  Catch  the  ball  and  toss  it  back!" 

"  What  are  Your  Highness'  orders  ?"  asked  the  man 
by  his  side,  who  half  heard  the  words. 

"  Nothing.  Go  on,  fire  away.  Give  it  them, 
Mat^evna !"  he  repUed,  addressing  the  large,  old-fash- 
ioned field-piece  at  the  further  end  of  the  row  and 
which  he  called  Mateevna. 

To  him  the  French  looked  like  ants  swarming 
round  their  guns ;  a  fine  artillery-ma,n,  somewhat  given 
to  drink,  who  served  the  second  cannon  as  No.  i, 
figured  in  Tonschine's  excited  imagination  as  "  the 
uncle,"  and  he  watched  his  slightest  movements  with 
particular  interest ;  the  volleys  of  musketry  came  up  to 
him  like  the  breathing  of  a  living  creature  to  whose 
sighing  he  Hstened  eagerly. 

"  He  is  breathing  hard,"  he  muttered,  and  he 
seemed  to  himself  a  huge  man,  tall  and  strong,  hurling 
ball  at  the  enemy  with  both  hands. 

"  Now  then,  Mateevna,  do  your  duty !"  he  had  just 
said,  quitting  his  favorite  cannon,  when  he  heard  above 
his  head  an  unknown  voice :  "  Captain  Tonschine  — 
Captain.  .  .  ."  He  started  and  turned  round.  It  was 
the  staff-officer  who  addressed  him. 

"  Are  you  mad  ?  This  is  the  second  time  you  have 
been  ordered  to  retire." 

"I  —  I  am  all  right.  ..."  he  stammered,  raising  his 
two  fingers  in  a  salute. 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  3II 

"  I.  .  .  ."  but  the  aide-de-camp  did  not  finish.  A 
ball,  rending  the  air  close  to  him,  made  him  duck  his 
head.  He  was  going  to  speak  again  when  another  ball 
cut  him  short.  He  turned  his  horse  and  disappeared 
at  a  gallop,  calling  over  his  shoulder :  "  Retire !" 

The  artillery-men  shouted  with  laughter.  Almost 
immediately  another  aide-de-camp  came,  with  the  same 
message.     This  was  Prince  Andre. 

The  first  thing  that  struck  his  sight  as  he  reached 
the  spot  was  a  horse  that  had  his  foot  smashed  and  was 
whining  with  pain  as  he  stood  with  his  companions  still 
in  harness.  Some  of  the  killed  were  lying  among  the 
gun-carriages.  Balls  flew  over  his  head  in  quick  suc- 
cession, and  a  nervous  thrill  ran  down  his  spinal  mar- 
row; but  the  thought  that  this  might  be  fear  revived 
all  his  courage.  He  deliberately  got  off  his  horse  in  the 
middle  of  the  battery  and  gave  the  order  there,  on  the 
spot.  He  was  quite  determined  to  see  it  carried  out 
under  his  own  eyes,  to  convoy  the  guns  himself,  if  neces- 
sary, under  the  murderous  French  fire,  and  he  pro- 
ceeded to  help  Tonschine,  striding  over  the  bodies  that 
lay  stretched  on  all  sides. 

*^  Another  messenger  came  just  now,  but  he  made 
himself  scarce  in  no  time  —  not  like  Your  Highness!" 
said  a  gunner  to  Prince  Andre. 

He  and  Tonschine  had  not  exchanged  a  word ;  in- 
deed, they  were  both  busy,  and  did  not  seem  to  see 
each  other.  Having  succeeded  in  getting  four  pieces 
safely  limbered  up  they  set  out  down  the  slope,  leaving 
two  guns,  one  spiked. 


312  WAR   AND   PEACE. 

"  Now  good-bye,"  said  Prince  Andre,  and  he  held 
out  his  hand. 

-  "Good-bye,  my  friend  —  brave,  good  soul!"  And 
Tonschine's  eyes  filled  with  tears,  though  he  could  not 
have  said  why. 

The  wind  had  fallen ;  the  heavy  clouds  that  seemed 
to  mingle  on  the  horizon  with  the  reek  of  gunpowder 
hung  low  over  the  field  of  battle,  and  two  blazing  vil- 
vages  stood  out  against  the  black  background  more 
visible  as  night  fell.  The  cannon  were  firing  less 
steadily,  but  the  fusillade  behind  and  to  the  right  was 
nearer  and  louder  as  they  went  on.  Tonschine  had 
scarcely  got  his  pieces  beyond  the  range  of  the  enemy's 
fire  and  down  into  the  ravine  when  he  met  a  party  of 
stafi'-ofiicers,  among  them  he  who  had  brought  the  order 
to  retire,  together  with  Gerkow,  who,  though  twice 
despatched,  had  never  reached  him.  All,  with  one 
consent  interrupting  and  contradicting  each  other, 
gave  him  orders  and  counter-orders  as  to  the  road 
he  should  take,  loading  him  with  blame  and  criti- 
cism. 

He,  for  his  part,  mounted  on  his  worn-out  horse,  sat 
in  gloomy  silence,  for  he  felt  that  if  he  spoke  a  word 
his  nerves,  in  their  utter  reaction,  must  give  way  and  he 
should  betray  some  emotion.  Though  he  had  been  in- 
structed to  leave  the  wounded,  several  had  dragged 
themselves  after  him,  imploring  to  be  carried  on  the 
guns.  The  smart  infantry  ofiicer  who,  a  few  hours  be- 
fore, had  come  hurrying  out  of  Tonschine's  hut  was 
stretched  on  "  Mateevna's"  gun-carriage  with  a  bullet 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  313 

in  his  stomach.  A  jimker  of  hussars,  pale  and  nursing 
a  crushed  hand,  besought  a  httle  room. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Captain  !"  he  said.  "  I  am  badly 
hurt — I  can  walk  no  further!"  It  was  evident  from 
his  tone  of  timid  entreaty  that  he  had  repeated  his  re- 
quest many  times  in  vain.  "  For  pity's  sake  do  not 
refuse !" 

"  Find  a  place  for  him,  tuck  a  cloak  under  him^ 
little  uncle,"  *  said  Tonschine  to  his  favorite  gunner. 
***  Where  is  tlie  wounded  officer  ?" 

*'We  took  him  down  —  he  is  dead,"  said  a  voice. 

"  Sit  there,  then,  sit  down  :  spread  out  the  cloak, 
Antonow."  The  junker^  Rostow  himself,  his  teeth 
chattering  with  fever,  was  helped  on  to  "Mateevna" 
from  which  the  dead  man  had  just  been  removed.  The 
blood  on  his  cloak  stained  Rostow's  trousers  and 
hands. 

"  Are  you  wounded,  friend  ?"  said  Tonschine. 

"  No,  only  bruised." 

"  But  there  is  blood  on  the  cloak  ?" 

"  The  officer's.  Your  Highness,  .  .  .!"  said  the  gun- 
ner, wiping  it  away  with  his  sleeve,  as  if  apologizing  for 
the  stain  on  one  of  his  cannon. 

With  the  help  of  the  infantry  to  push,  the  guns 
were,  with  great  difficulty,  hauled  up  the  hill  as  far  as 
the  village  of  Gunthersdorf ;  there  they  halted.     It  was 

*  "Little  father,"  "little  uncle,"  "my  children,"  and  other 
words  of  endearment  are  terms  of  respectful  familiarity  often  used  in 
Russia.  On  the  other  hand  formal  titles  of  address,  such  as  "  High- 
ness "  or  "  Your  Nobleness,"  and  so  on,  are  freely  given  to  superiors 
in  rank,  irrespective  of  birth. 


3T4  WAR    AND   PEACE. 

now  SO  dark  that  the  different  uniforms  were  indis- 
tinguishable at  ten  paces  distance.  The  firing  was 
gradually  ceasing.  Suddenly  it  began  again  and  quite 
close,  on  the  right ;  the  flashes  gleamed  in  the  darkness. 
This  was  a  last  effort  on  the  part  of  the  French;  the 
Russians  replied  from  the  houses  in  the  village  and  then 
rushed  out.  Tonschine  and  his  company,  unable  to 
advance,  aAvaited  their  fate,  looking  at  each  other  in 
silence.  However,  the  firing  was  soon  over  and  a 
party  of  soldiers  came  out  of  a  cross-street,  talking 
loudly. 

'^We  have  given  them  a  warming,  lads ;  they  will 
not  try  it  again." 

"  Are  you  safe  and  sound,  Petrow  ?" 

"  It  is  impossible  to  see  a  thing,"  said  a  third.  "  It 
is  as  dark  as  pitch  ...  I  say,  boys,  can  we  get  anything 
to  drink  ?" 

The  French  were  finally  driven  off;  Tonschine  went 
on  with  his  guns  into  the  remoter  darkness,  the  noise  and 
bustle  of  the  infantry  flowing  on  with  him.  It  was  like 
a  black,  invisible  stream  going  steadily  onwards,  its 
deep  murmur  being  represented  by  the  dull  sound  of 
voices,  the  clatter  of  horses  and  the  rumble  of  wheels. 
Above  this  medley  of  noises  rose,  piercing  and  distinct, 
the  groans  and  cries  of  the  wounded,  which  seemed  in- 
deed to  fill  the  darkness  and  become  one  with  it  —  a 
single  hideous  impression.  A  little  further  on  the  mov- 
ing mass  was  visibly  excited :  an  ofiicer  on  a  white 
horse,  followed  by  a  numerous  staff,  had  just  ridden  by,, 
shedding  a  few  words  as  he  passed. 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  315 

*'  What  did  he  say  ?  Where  are  we  to  go  ?  Are  we 
to  stop  here  ?  Did  he  say  anything  by  way  of  thanks  ?'* 

In  the  midst  of  this  cross-fire  of  questions  the  Hving 
stream  was  suddenly  checked  in  front;  the  foremost 
ranks  had  halted  :  orders  had  been  given  that  they  were 
to  stop  for  the  night  in  the  middle  of  this  miry  road. 

Fires  were  lighted  and  tongues  wagged  again. 
Captain  Tonschine,  after  making  his  arrangements, 
sent  a  soldier  to  seek  out  an  ambulance  or  a  surgeon 
for  the  hapless  junker^  and  sat  down  by  the  fire.  Ros- 
tow  dragged  himself  there,  too;  his  whole  frame  shook 
with  the  feverish  chill  caused  by  pain,  cold,  and  damp; 
he  was  almost  overpowered  by  sleep,  but  he  could  not 
give  way  to  it  for  the  acute  suffering  caused  by  his 
arm;  he  would  shut  his  eyes  for  a  minute  or  two  and 
then  gaze  at  the  fire  which  he  saw  in  a  blood-red  glare, 
or  at  Tonschine's  square  little  figure  as  he  squatted  like 
a  Turk  and  looked  at  Rostow  with  a  kindly,  shrewd 
twinkle,  full  of  pity  and  sympathy.  He  would  have 
helped  him  with  all  his  heart  if  he  could,  but  he  knew 
he  could  not:  on  all  sides  they  could  hear  steps  and 
voices,  the  infantry  settling  down  for  the  night,  the 
horses'  hoofs  as  they  pawed  the  mud,  and  the  splitting 
of  wood  at  a  distance. 

It  was  no  longer  the  roar  of  an  invisible  torrent ;  it 
was  the  swell  and  dash  of  the  sea  after  a  storm.  Rostow 
saw  and  heard,  but  did  not  seem  to  understand  what 
was  going  on  round  him.  A  trooper  came  up  to  the 
blaze,  squatted  on  his  heels  and  held  out  his  hands  to 
warm  them,  turning  to  Tonschine  with  an  apologetic 


3l6  WAR   AND    PEACE. 

look :  "  You  will  not  object,  Highness  ?  I  have  missed 
my  company,  I  don't  know  where." 

An  infantry  officer  with  his  face  tied  up  came  to  ask 
Tonschine  to  have  his  guns  moved;  they  blocked  the 
way  for  a  baggage-wagon;  after  him  came  two  soldiers 
abusing  each  other  and  quarrelling  for  a  boot. 

"It  is  not  true  that  you  picked  it  up  .  .  .  ." 

"Don't  talk  to  me!"  screamed  the  other  hoarsely. 

A  third,  with  his  neck  wrapped  in  blood-stained 
bandages,  came  to  the  artillery-man  and  asked  for  a 
drink  in  a  hollow  voice:  "Must  I  be  left  to  die  like  a 
dog?"  Tonschine  bid  them  give  him  some  water. 
Then  a  wag  ran  up  wanting  some  fire  for  the  infantry 
men. 

"Fire,  fire!"  he  said.  "Fire,  all  hot! —  Good-luck 
to  you,  friend,  and  thanks  for  the  fire;  we  will  return  it 
with  interest,"  and  he  disappeared  with  his  flaming 
brand. 

After  this,  four  soldiers  went  past,  carrying  some- 
thing heavy  wrapped  in  a  cloak.  One  of  them  stum- 
bled. 

"  D them !     They  have  left  the  place  strewn 

with  wood  !"  he  grumbled. 

"  He  is  dead — what  is  the  use  of  carrying  him?" 
said  another.  "  I  tell  you  what  .  .  .  ."  And  the  four 
men  with  their  burthen  were  lost  in  the  gloom. 

"  You  are  in  great  pain  ?"  said  Tonschine  softly  to 
Rostovv. 

"Yes,  great  pain." 


WAR    AND   PEACE.  317 

"  Highness,  the  general  is  asking  for  you,"  said  an 
artillery-man  to  the  captain. 

"  I  am  coming,  friend,"  said  Tonschine  rising  and 
buttoning  his  uniform  as  he  quitted  the  fire. 

Prince  Bagration  was  at  dinner  in  a  cottage  a  few 
steps  away  from  the  artillery  camp-fires,  talking  with 
several  commanding  ofiicers  whom  he  had  invited  to 
share  his  meal.  Among  them  was  the  old  sleepy-eyed 
colonel  —  who  was  gnawing  at  a  mutton  bone  with  an 
appetite;  the  general  of  twenty-two  years'  blameless 
service,  his  face  radiant  with  wine  and  a  good  dinner; 
the  German  with  the  diamond  ring;  Gerkow,  who 
looked  anxiously  from  one  to  another  of  the  company ; 
and  Prince  Andre,  very  pale,  his  lips  set  and  his  eyes 
glittering  with  a  fevered  light. 

In  one  comer  of  the  room  there  was  a  French  flag; 
the  civilian  sat  feeling  the  stuff  it  was  made  of  and 
shaking  his  head :  was  it  out  of  curiosity,  or  was  it  that 
the  sight  of  the  dinner-table,  at  which  there  was  no 
place  for  him,  was  a  trial  to  his  famished  stomach  ? 

In  the  neighboring  cottage  sat  a  French  colonel, 
who  had  been  taken  prisoner  by  the  Russian  dragoons, 
and  the  officers  were  crowding  round  him  inquisitively. 

Bagration  thanked  the  officers  who  had  commanded 
the  various  divisions  and  made  enquiries  as  to  the  de- 
tails of  the  battle  and  the  losses  sustained.  The  general 
whom  we  know  as  commanding  the  regiment  at  Brau- 
nau,  explained  to  the  prince  how,  quite  at  the  beginning 
of  the  action,  he  had  called  together  the  men  who  were 
gathering  wood  and  had  made  them  pass  behind  the 


3IO  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

two  battalions  which  he  led  with  a  rush,  with  fixed 
bayonets,  on  to  the  foe  and  completely  routed  them. 

''Then,  Your  Excellency,  seeing  that  the  first  bat- 
talion was  giving  way  I  took  up  a  position  on  the  road 
and  said  to  myself:  we  will  let  these  get  past  and  re- 
ceive the  others  with  a  volley  —  and  that  was  what  I 
did." 

The  worthy  man  would  so  much  have  liked  to  do 
this  that  he  had  ended  by  persuading  himself  that  it 
had  actually  happened. 

"  I  should  wish,  too,  to  point  out  to  Your  Excel- 
lency," he  went  on,  with  a  reminiscence  of  his  conver- 
sation with  Koutouzow,  "  that  Dologhow,  the  private, 
seized  a  French  prisoner  under  my  eyes,  and  distin- 
guished himself  conspicuously." 

"  At  that  very  moment,  Excellency,  I  was  engaged 
in  the  attack  made  by  the  Pavlograd  horse,"  added 
Gerkow  with  a  rather  doubtful  manner,  for  he  had  not 
set  eyes  on  a  hussar  during  the  whole  day  and  only 
knew  by  hearsay  of  what  they  had  done.  "  They  broke 
two  of  the  enemy's  squares,  Your  Excellency." 

Some  of  the  officers  present  smiled  as  Gerkow 
spoke ;  they  were  prepared  for  one  of  his  usual  pleas- 
antries ;  but  as  this  lie  was  not  followed  up  by  any  jest, 
and  as,  after  all,  it  was  to  the  honor  and  glory  of  their 
troops  they  looked  grave  again. 

"I  thank  you  all,  gentlemen.  Every  corps  —  in- 
fantry, cavalry,  artillery,  all  behaved  heroically !  —  But 
how  is  it  that  two  guns  were  abandoned  at  the  centre  ?'* 
he  asked  looking  round  for  someone. 


WAR   AND    PEACE.  319 

Prince  Bagration  made  no  enquiries  as  to  what  had 
become  of  the  cannon  of  the  left  flank,  which  had  been 
abandoned  quite  at  the  beginning  of  the  engagement. 

"  I  fancy  I  gave  you  orders  to  bring  them  down," 
he  added,  turning  to  the  staff-officer  on  duty. 

"  One  was  spiked,"  repUed  the  officer.  "  With  re- 
gard to  the  other,  I  cannot  understand  ...  I  was  there 
all  the  while  ...  It  was  a  hot  corner,  to  be  sure,"  he 
added  modestly. 

Someone  observed  that  Captain  Tonschine  had 
been  sent  for. 

"  But  you  were  there  ?"  said  Bagration  addressing 
Prince  Andre. 

"  Of  course  .  .  .  We  just  missed  each  other,"  said 
the  staff-officer  with  an  ingratiating  smile. 

**  I  had  not  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you,"  replied  Bol- 
konsky  shortly  and  sharply. 

There  was  a  pause.  Tonschine  had  just  come  in, 
gliding  shyly  forward  behind  all  these  broad  epaulettes; 
abashed,  as  usual,  at  the  sight  of  them  he  stumbled 
over  the  flag-pole,  and  his  awkwardness  gave  rise  to  a 
smothered  laugh. 

"  How  is  it  that  two  guns  were  left  on  the  height  ?" 
said  Bagration,  with  a  frown  which  was  meant  for  Ger- 
kow  and  the  laughers  ratlier  than  the  little  captain. 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  in  the  presence  of  this  dread 
Areopagus,  did  Tonschine  perceive  with  alarm  the 
enormity  of  his  dehnquency  in  abandoning  two  guns 
while  he  himself  had  life.  In  his  bewilderment  and  the 
excitement  he  had  gone  through,  he  had  entirely  for- 


320  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

gotten  the  incident.  He  succumbed,  and  only  mur- 
mured :  "  I  do  not  know,  Your  Excellency  —  there  were 
not  enough  men  .  .  .  ." 

"  You  might  have  had  men  from  the  battalions 
which  covered  you." 

Tonschine  might  have  replied  that  there  were  no 
)  such  battalions :  it  was  the  plain  truth.  But  he  feared 
to  compromise  some  superior  officer,  so  he  stood  with 
his  eyes  fixed  on  Bagration  like  a  school-boy  caught  in 
mischief.  The  silence  remained  unbroken ;  his  judge, 
evidently  anxious  to  avoid  useless  severity,  did  not 
know  what  to  say.  Prince  Andr6  looked  at  Tonschine 
from  under  his  brows,  and  his  fingers  twitched  ner- 
vously. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  he  began,  breaking  the  silence 
in  a  peremptory  tone,  "  you  sent  me  to  Captain  Ton- 
schine's  battery  and  I  there  found  two-thirds  of  the  men 
and  horses  killed,  two  cannon  burst,  and  no  battalions 
to  protect  it."  Bagration  and  Tonschine  never  took 
their  eyes  off  him.  "  And,  if  Your  Excellency  will  allow 
me  to  express  an  opinion,  it  is  to  that  battery  and  to 
Captain  Tonschine's  heroic  steadiness  that  the  success 
of  the  action  is  in  great  measure  due." 

He  rose  from  table  without  waiting  for  a  reply. 
Bagration  looked  at  Tonschine,  and  not  choosing  to 
show  his  incredulity  he  simply  bowed  and  told  him  he 
might  withdraw.     Prince  Andre  followed  him. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Tonschine  wringing  his  hand. 
I  "  You  have  got  me  out  of  a  mess."  Prince  Andr6  said 
^^nothing;  he  looked  at  him  sadly  and  turned  away.    He 


WAR    AND    PEACE.  32 1 

felt  a  weight  on  his  heart .  .  .  everything  was  so  strange, 
so  different  from  what  he  had  hoped. 


"  Who  are  they  ?  What  are  they  doing  ?  When 
will  it  all  end  ?"  said  Rostow  to  himself  as  his  eyes  fol- 
lowed the  shadowy  figures  that  passed  him  unceasingly. 
His  arm  hurt  him  more  and  more;  want  of  sleep 
weighed  him  down ;  red  spots  danced  before  his  eyes, 
and  all  the  various  impressions  of  the  voices  and  faces 
around  him,  and  of  his  own  loneliness  became  one  with 
the  pain  he  was  suffering:  Those  wounded  soldiers 
were  crushing  him,  knocking  up  against  him,  these 
others  were  racking  his  muscles,  roasting  his  broken 
arm. 

To  be  rid  of  the  sight  he  shut  his  eyes,  and  forgot 
himself  for  a  moment ;  and  in  that  brief  instant  a  whole 
phantasmagoria  danced  before  his  brain :  his  mother  with 
her  white  hands,  Sonia  with  her  thin  shoulders,  Na- 
tacha's  smiling  eyes;  then  Denissow,  Telianine,  Bog- 
danitch  and  all  his  squabble  with  them  —  and  the 
whole  scene  was  epitomized  in  the  figure  of  a  soldier — 
out  there,  down  there  —  that  hook-nosed  man  with  a 
shrill  voice,  who  hurt  him  so  much  and  dragged  his 
arm.  He  tried,  but  in  vain,  to  free  himself  from  the 
clutch  that  tortured  his  shoulder  —  that  unlucky  shoul- 
der which  would  have  been  quite  sound  if  only  he  had 
not  bruised  it  so  cruelly. 

He  opened  his  eyes :  a  narrow  strip  of  the  black 

Vol.    I.  31 


322  WAR    AND    PEACE. 

veil  of  night  was  visible  above  the  glare  of  the  fires,  and 
in  the  glare  fluttered  a  silvery  dust  of  fine,  light  snow. 
No  surgeon  —  and  Tonschine  did  not  return.  —  With 
the  exception  of  a  poor  little  tro  per,  stripped  to  the 
skin,  who  was  warming  his  starvelin,"  ^rame  at  the  other 
side  of  the  fire,  he  was  quite  alone 

"  No  one  wants  me,"  though  xvostow,  "  no  one 
helps  me  or  pities  me  —  and  at  "lome  I  used  to  be 
strong  and  happy,  and  every  one  lo  ^d  me."  He  sighed, 
and  his  sigh  was  lost  in  a  groan. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  —  Are  you  hurt  ?"  asked  the 
trooper,  shaking  his  shirt  over  the  blaze ;  and  without 
waiting  for  a  reply  he  went  on :  "  What  a  lot  of  poor 
fellows  have  been  cut  and  slashed  this  day.  —  It  is 
fearful!" 

Rostow  did  not  heed  him,  he  sat  watching  the  snow- 
flakes  as  they  whirled  in  the  air;  he  thought  of  his 
winters  in  Russia,  of  the  warm,  well-lighted  house,  of 
his  soft  furs,  and  swift  sleigh  —  he  saw  himself  happy, 
well,  surrounded  by  his  own  people :  "  What  on  earth 
made  me  want  to  come  here  ?"  he  asked  himself 

The  French  did  not  renew  the  attack  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  and  the  remains  of  Bagration's  division  joined 
the  army  under  Koutouzow.  ^  lA 

END   OF   VOL.    I. 


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